


Before the Storm

by HeadintheCloudsForever



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 129,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadintheCloudsForever/pseuds/HeadintheCloudsForever
Summary: Tonks meets Remus Lupin at Grimmauld Place one night over dinner, and forms a friendship with him over the course of their mission to infiltrate Fenrir Greyback's camp that leads to something dangerous, more than they bargained for, but broken hearts have a way of finding each other when needed the most. Tonks is kidnapped. He must put aside his fears to save her. Rated T.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 26
Kudos: 20





	1. Let Me Tell You a Story

Gravestones lined the eerie graveyard, some recently placed, whereas others, cracked and crumbling. Mold covered the engravings dedicated to the dead, trees leaning towards the stones, branches reaching out to each other. Spiked, black fences surrounded the graveyard almost like it was a prison. The smell of old stone filled the dry air, weeds covering the graves of the dead, loved ones long since stopped visiting. Gravel paths weave through the maze of graves, allowing passersby to pay their respects to the people lined up in the earths embrace. The graveyard was so neat. Row upon row of white marble tombstones all rising from the manicured grass. Each one was perfect, polished and the same as all the others, except the name it bore. They were lined up perfectly with those in front and behind, a city block for the dead.

Teddy allowed a small ghost of a smile to cross his lips, hoping that he blended in as he came to visit, having chosen to forsake his robes for a simple black suit. No longer was his hair a bright, vibrant turquoise, but instead a mellow, dark brown, somber, fitting.

How Dad would have hated this place; Dad who loved everything eccentric and unique, obscure music and old poets; Dad who loved to be impulsive and could never be still a moment; Dad who was drawn to wild bracken and ivy over rhododendrons and roses. He had gone into the Battle of Hogwarts with Mom, both fought so that he could have a better life, a better world in which to grow up in, he should have been safe away from the battlefield. But his reflexes hadn’t been quick enough, according to those who knew him, after months of mastering defensive and protective spells and enchantments to protect his wife and baby, his reflexes had weakened. He had spotted her corpse on the ground and had gone into hysterics, seemingly no longer caring if he lived or if he died, and he was given a soldier's grave. So now he laid to rest in this exalted place, a fresh white rose every day and gardeners that fuss about with magical enchantments, doing whatever they could to keep the place neat. Teddy’s hands were empty as he passed through, no personal effects here were allowed, not even flowers, but the old caretaker didn’t know about his wand. The young man kept a steady count, one hundred twelve across, forty-nine down, and still, he was at only the edge. Finally, he found them. Buried side-by-side, together even in death. The disembodied voices of souls that once walked the earth seemed to be carried through the fog that was rising from the cracks in the porous path. It sounded like wind was whistling through the trees, but...there was no wind and not even the tiniest breeze. Tombstones were crumbling from the weathering that they had experienced throughout the years and the engravings had nearly disappeared. Teddy Remus Lupin both loved and hated it here. He missed them, he just wanted to see them, to know his parents. Teddy had only been a baby when they had passed, but according to his grandmother, the day after his parents had died, onlookers at their funeral had said, “Good mourning,” as if there was a gladness in the remembering, that they were able to take comfort, somehow. But who had helped his parents? Each who had been at the Battle of Hogwarts had stood by, watched Remus John Lupin and Nymphadora Lupin (nee Tonks) be murdered at the hands of Death Eaters. And then they dared to act as if it were a noble sacrifice, for their sakes, and for Teddy’s, but they just did not understand at all. That by loving their memory, the mourning became this wholesome and wonderful thing. They were cowards, these people, none of them willing to see the difference between honorable self-sacrifice, of which his parents had selflessly given their lives for him, and the Death Eaters had murdered them, and to his knowledge, were never killed during that fight, nor arrested for it.

Teddy found their graves and was hit with an immense wave of sadness. Guilt would do that, lock the truth in a cage and warp love into something strange and truly awful. Loving his parents meant he would have happily traded places with them in a heartbeat, fought until they either all lived, or they all died together, as a loving family.

And so, for Teddy, the mourning wasn’t good at all, it was only the start of the longest and darkest night there ever was, unceasing.

It was only in the stillness of the late evening that he could hear his parents calling his name. He would walk to the edge of the graveyard sometimes, past their graves and gaze out at the Thames.

The wind blew, tousling his hair, but to Teddy, everything had stopped. He no longer heard the Muggle traffic or noticed other people. To him, they were as if in a photograph—two dimensional and static. In that extended moment, his mind became at peace.

His parents were not gone, just out of reach for now.

Teddy did his best to stifle the choked sob that forced its way up into his throat, to no avail. Sniffling as he wiped away his tears with his oversized sweater sleeve, he pulled out the crumpled piece of paper from his jeans pocket, gingerly unfolding it with careful fingers. Taking a deep, shaking breath to settle his nerves, he read.

_A letter to my love,_

_I’ve never been very good at talking. Whenever I try to express the emotions whirling around in my soul, my throat tightens, blocking me from saying anything. So, I will write to you instead. I never should have left you and Teddy alone when you were pregnant._

_I realize that now, and I hope that one day, when you find this, though you have already forgiven me, you will do it again, because I cannot seem to find it within to forgive myself. I was weak, Dora. But let me make up for it now by being strong for all three of us._

_I chased after something that looked good, but never truly had a place in my heart. Not like you and our unborn child do, love._

_You were always there for me every time I chased after one obsession or another. You quietly stood by my side, supporting me._

_Though I didn’t know it at the time, I loved you. I always will. You are more than just a best friend to me. I can tell you things easily and you just listen. You always make me laugh. I thought up to that point, I had my life figured out, but I didn’t. You asked me once to share my feelings. Merlin’s beard, where do I start? The truth is, Dora, for so long, I’d forgotten what those even were. For such a long time, I believed myself unworthy of love, thinking that it was never ending, and that it just…faded away until there was nothing except for a hollow heart. For so long, mine was hollow, bitter, cold. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then, that fateful night when you tripped over the umbrella stand in Number 12, Grimmauld Place, you came into my life, and…for the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. But lately, I guess I’ve been feeling…distant from you, and I know that’s all my doing. I should not have left. I miss making triple decker pancake extravaganzas with you at sunrise, watching those Muggle movies you’re so fond of before we doze off. Without my knowing from the first moment I saw you, real love began to take shape in my heart. I only realized it when I saw you in the hallway with your broken toe and bright pink hair. You didn’t see me until I said something, but I looked at you then and realized that I love you. You were so different from other women in this world. You looked at me and you didn’t see my lycanthropy. You cared, Dora. Love radiates in your heart, spilling out into the lives of all those around you, especially me. You weren’t just pretty on the outside, you have a beauty deep within._

_Space and time here have no meaning for my love for you and our unborn child, for it is boundless, eternal. It’s a love that self-sustains through even the harshest of winters, its own heat and the light being the warmth, the hope that our marriages brings our family._

_Even if you were cold to your core, Dora, I would wake you like the spring wakes up a flower and watch you grow and blossom._

_Everything that I am is yours. All I ask is that you take care of yourself in the same way you would care for me, completely, in the same way that I love you. I couldn’t be prouder of us, Dora._

_Thank you, for giving me my life back. It’s been extraordinary, sharing the simple joys of life with you, and look what we made._

_You and I are about to become parents, my love. Parenting is the one job you and I will never quit, Dora. Every day forward is a new chance to get things right, to guide and nourish our baby as he or she grows to develop into the person our baby is born to be. We’ll help our child find what he or she loves, what his or talents will lead to. And then, one day, when we’re older, we’ll have to let them go._

_We’ll be proud of them but watch in anxiousness as they try out their new ‘wings’. We’ll let our child know that our home is still their home should they ever need to return, and we’ll be here, just as before. Our baby, though it isn’t here yet, is our child for life, and our love for it is eternal, just as my love is eternal for you, Dora._

_I hope you never forget this, and I can picture you even as I write this mouthing this next part, since I say it to you every chance I get._

_“Otherwise, I’ll have to remind you every single day. Until the end of the world.”_

_Love,_

_Your husband._

Fighting back an onset of fresh tears, Teddy folded the letter back into the envelope and tucked it back into his pocket. The sound of a man’s voice speaking up from behind him startled the young wizard.

“They would be proud of you, you know,” came his godfather’s quiet voice. Usually much more chipper, today, his tone was solemn. “Your parents were among a few of the bravest people I’ve ever had the fortune to know. I was proud to call them my friends.”

Harry Potter stood behind Teddy, his hands buried in the pockets of his black coat, the slight breeze tousling his thick tuft of wild black hair, his glasses slightly askew, thanks to the wind, but he paid it no mind. He had eyes only for his godson. “Have a seat,” he instructed, gruffly, but not unkindly, as he waved his wand, casting a furtive glance around, making sure no one was watching, and conjured a wooden bench out of thin air, right next to their graves.

The bench had been exposed to the elements for many seasons, likely it was older than Teddy was. It had come to resemble driftwood, the bright tones of its once fresh state had become a somber brown, but beautiful. He ran his fingers over the swirls in the wood grain, being so close to the Thames it was likely just as infused with salt from onshore breezes and the wintry gales that even made the air taste of brine. Teddy turned to sit, feeling the slight give in the wood, any creak being lost beneath the sound of the waves on the pebbled beach if faced. He sat, not with the impatience of one waiting for a bus, but with the feeling of one savoring the moment. He felt the wind tousle his short hair, cool, refreshing and let his eyes fall on the Thames, the horizon.

Teddy wondered how many had sat in this very spot and what their emotions were, perhaps some were newlyweds in love, some confused teenagers searching for meaning, some the old folk come to remember a loved one who had since passed. He was none of those things, neither at the beginning of his young life or nearing the end, but old enough to cherish moments instead of wishing them away.

“Tell me about them,” Teddy urged desperately. “Please, Harry.”

Harry sighed, not looking at Teddy at first, running a hand through his dark hair in a vain attempt to smooth his locks, to no avail. Fighting the wind was a losing battle, even with the use of magic.

His godfather said nothing at first, pulling a worn photograph out of his coat pocket, wordlessly passing it along to Teddy. “Here. Take it. It’s one of a few pictures I have of them left. You keep it. You ought to be able to remember your parents as your father and mother. Me, I’m able to remember them as my friends,” he said.

Teddy fell silent and glanced down at the photograph. It depicted his father and mother smiling at the camera before in a moment of mischief, his father’s face lit up with a playful grin, making him look years younger than he actually was, and twirled his mother once, and her smile of pure delight tugged at Teddy’s heartstrings as he watched. He rummaged through his other coat pocket and pulled out the second letter, this one much longer and several pages long.

_Their life story_ , Teddy thought wildly, flipping through the pages to pick back up where he’d left of. He wanted to choose the most perfect memories his parents had of one another and cling to it, because in these moments, just like in the few photographs he had of his parents, his mother and father were the people that they should have been all along, had it not been for the stresses of war and death.

In these letters and photographs, their personalities were so golden and sacred, Teddy wanted to keep it that way forever. Like one of those old Muggle movie reels he could play it will, he unfolded the first letter his parents had written to Teddy, detailing how they met.


	2. How They Met

_People say the darkness “presses in,” it doesn't. The darkness kisses up to your skin closer than a mother and whispers excitement into your ears. The darkness is your best friend, it's funny and glib, flattering and cool. The darkness will be your favorite thing right up until your exits are blocked, then it has no reason to hide. If it was easy to spot darkness there wouldn't be a problem, how often are you confused with day and night? But I can tell you now, if you don't understand your own emotions and motivations, I can't help you. You are a character, this is your story, now what do you want? What do you fear? Know that and you can unlock your own cage and step into the light._ Her mother’s words rang in her ears, refusing to part from the young Auror’s thoughts as she stood outside.

The old house seemed to have collapsed inwardly on itself somewhat, like a loaf of bread taken out of the oven too soon. The roof sagged and the cedar shingles stuck up in places like wonky teeth. The windows had no glass in them now and they seemed not to be quite rectangular anymore. The lean-to shed on the side hung downwards as if the fight had left it and it could no longer bring itself to stand up against the elements. In the high winds of the season the old house could be heard to creak as if in its death throes. The grass grew long and unkempt around it and in that grass were tracks made by the local children who dared each other to go there in the twilight to search for ghosts. At the front of the entrance, an energetic young woman and her companion stood at the edge of the front steps, hesitant to take another step.

“Here?” demanded the woman, scrunching her nose in disgust. “He lives _here_ , of all places, Mad Eye? But…why? Why here? Grimmauld Place?” The young woman made a face and folded her arms across her chest, her wand clutched tightly in her hand, her simple black purse slung over her other shoulder. “Molly’s meatballs better be worth this, Mad-Eye, I swear to Merlin!”

Her much-older compatriot shot a disgruntled glance her way. The grizzled Auror had long since forgotten what it felt like to have joints that moved freely, without pain. His aches were his constant companions, not friends, but always with him, reminders of times long gone. His memories both warmed and haunted the man, sometimes drawing a smile, other times a smirk. And time was the thief he always suspected her to be, taking his friends, his companions, even his family. Everybody seemed to want a long life, but what good would come of that if everybody you knew was dead? What was life then for Mad-Eye Moody but marking time? As he looked into the eyes of his young charge, the Auror had to resist the urge to scoff and roll his eyes at the woman’s naivetés. He knew what Nymphadora Tonks saw when she looked at him. The scars lay scattered across his tired, careworn face, some fresh against his skin. The pink shininess was shocking. Whenever someone at the Ministry asked, Mad-Eye would describe his scars as his teachers, he would tell them that it taught him not to get caught next time. It taught him to run faster and train his reflexes and his wand hand to move faster. He refused to cover them or heal them with a simple spell, Mad-Eye said it was a badge of shame for his failure.

 _One day_ , Tonks thought, _that scar’s going to look old and he’ll wear it as a badge of pride instead of an old battle wound from the daring days of his youth, his prime time when he was head Auror_. 

As he glanced at his protégé, he could not help but feel an immense sense of pride swell from deep within his chest as he glanced at the young Auror.

Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. But her eyes, her eyes showed her soul. They were a deep pool of restless gray, an ocean of hopeless grief. As Mad-Eye looked into her eyes he knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them the grizzled Auror read clearly that she would fight to the very last tear for her life. She would not let the world break her. Sure, she could cry, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion.

Passion that made her beautiful. Nymphadora Tonks wasn’t necessarily considered beautiful in the classical way, no flowing golden curls or ivory skin, no piercing eyes of green. She was slightly shorter than average, but slender and willowy. But in her ordinariness, Tonks was a stunning woman. Something radiated from within that rendered her irresistible to both genders. Men desired her; women courted her friendship. Tonks had kind of an understated beauty, with her hair cropped short in a stylish pixie, clipper cut and neatly tapered in the back, her bangs falling to just below her delicately shaped brows, the color a bright vibrant grape purple that flattered her skin tone.

Her heart-shaped face was very white, the color of a moonbeam, or an ivory carving. A snowy face, very beautiful, like a snow queen's in a fairy tale. Her hands, too, were bone-white, but soft and elegant, as pale hands often are. She looked like a porcelain doll--you worried that she'd shatter if she fell.

Even in the dark you could see her, like a shining beacon. The white creamy tone of her skin reminding him of whipped milk as moonlight shone through the window and on to her. Mad-Eye Moody couldn't help but wonder if he reached out to her, would he only graze air. As if she were nothing but a ghost.

Tonks was so disarmingly unaware of her prettiness. Her pale skin was completely flawless. He doubted she used magic or expensive products, that wasn’t really the young Auror’s method. She was all about simplicity, making things easy, helping those around her to relax and be happy with what they had. Perhaps that was why her skin glowed so much, it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. When she smiled and laughed, Mad Eye couldn’t help but smile along with it too, and he was a man who rarely smiled, even if it was just on the inside. That’s just what she did to him.

The effect she had on people; Tonks had no idea of it. None at all.

He gave a scrutinizing look with his magical eye, assessing her outfit.

“What’s with the getup, Tonks?” he managed gruffly after a few moments of silence. “You got a hot date tonight after dinner tonight that I don’t know of?”

Tonks glanced down at her outfit, a simple floor length sleeveless maxi dress, perfect for the heady hot summer weather in late July, heather gray in color, and a pair of open toed black sandals that revealed her love for dark purple toenail polish. She scrunched her nose and made a face, sticking out her tongue at her mentor. She saw nothing wrong with it and said as much to him.

“Maybe,” she retorted hotly, glancing at her reflection in her compact mirror as she checked her makeup one last time. “What’s it to you, Mad-Eye? Jealous?”

Mad-Eye felt his lips curl into a twisted sneer, more of a grimace. “No. Just want you to be careful is all. Any one of those _boys_ you date,” here he spat the word as if it were poison in his mouth, “could be under Voldemort’s thumb or under the Imperious Curse. Can’t be too cautious. Constant vigilance, Tonks,” he grunted, sounding thoroughly disgruntled. “Never forget that, girlie.”

“How can I, when you remind me every spare second you get?” she teased, reaching up a purple manicured finger and bopping him on the nose, much to his agitation. Angrily, he swatted her hand away with a brush of his hand. 

The seasoned Auror huffed in frustration and stomped his walking stick on the ground, a release of his pent-up anger over the night’s efforts to come here.

“Stop that!” he roared irately. “You know I hate that crap, Nymphadora. _Yes_ , Tonks, Sirius lives here, and we’re late already as it is.” He prodded her forward gently with just a slight nudge to her back of his walking stick. “ _Go_.”

Mumbling a quick curse under her breath, low enough so he wouldn’t hear it, she felt her feet move slowly forward of their own accord, no longer listening to her mind, which was screaming at her to turn around. The curt reply earned a quick head nod from Tonks, who felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she looked away, and, without another word, fled up the steps and knocked on the door before Mad-Eye could so much as throw another insult Tonks’ way.

“Come on, slowpoke!” she called out behind her shoulder. “He’s waiting!”

Her cousin wrenched open the door on the second knock. Tonks drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as she found herself face-to-face with Sirius Black, her cousin, and former inmate of Azkaban prison, now forced to lay in hiding forever. No one feature made Sirius quite so handsome, though Tonks thought his eyes came close. People often spoke of the color of eyes, as if that were of any importance, yet Sirius’s would be beautiful in any shade. From them came such an intensity, honesty, and a gentleness. Perhaps this was what meant by being a gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but one of great spirit and noble ways. What Sirius was, what was beautiful about the man, came from deep within, this she knew. Tonks knew as she looked at her cousin, she knew the lines would deepen upon his face, and Sirius would be more handsome still, as if his very soul shone through his skin. “Hurry up!” he urged quietly through gritted teeth, casting a weary glance over his shoulder, raising a finger to his lips. “And keep quiet through the house, try not to make any noise going through the hallways,” he whispered, ushering both Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody inside.

“Why?” asked Tonks, her curiosity getting the better of her as she shifted her little black purse to her other shoulder, her wand clutched tightly in her hand.

“I’ll explain later!” Sirius whisper-hissed through clenched teeth. “But—”

But Sirius Black did not get a chance to finish his sentence as a loud crash echoed throughout the corridor. Whirling around, he glared at his cousin.

“ _Tonks_!” he cried exasperatedly, seeing his cousin laying in a heap on the floor, clutching her toe, one of her toes bloodied and the crimson leaking onto the floor. Sirius let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples wearily with his forefingers. “Here, I got this,” he murmured quietly, waving his wand.

“No, no, that’s really not necessary,” she started to say, but he cut her off.

“ _Episkey_.”

Tonks winced, biting her tongue hard enough that it bled as she felt the pain coming of her broken bone in her toe moving back into place. Without looking, as she clenched her eyes shut tightly, she knew there was blood seeping from skin that only seconds ago was smooth. She was regretting her choice to wear her black sandals that showed off her love for dark purple toenail polish, or her light heather gray maxi dress. If she would have stuck with her regular boots and pants, she would not have tripped, but no, she had to just dress up tonight, and all for what? For nothing! It wasn’t often Molly invited them all to dinner, so tonight’s meeting must have been something of great significance. 

Nymphadora did not move from her spot on the floor next to that godforsaken umbrella stand that was constantly a tripping hazard.

She let out a weary sigh as the echoing wails of Sirius’s mother’s portraits began screaming obscenities and insults, and Sirius and Mad Eye rushed to take care of it and tug the curtain back. Tonks stifled her smile as Sirius yelled.

Despite her newly mended toe, the blood still remained and dried. She did not move, anything to delay the part where she took in what she looked like now. Torn and dirty skin on her big right toe, she’d have to re-do her toenail polish later. Setting her wand down at her side, she let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you hurt? Are you in any pain? I was watching from the kitchen. That was…quite the fall,” came a new voice from behind her, towards her right side, a man’s. Whoever he was, he sounded like he was desperately fighting his urge to laugh at her, for which Tonks was immensely grateful. She didn’t need further humiliation, but something about his voice told her she could trust him. His tone was soft and timid. The man’s voice was smooth, melodious, and rich. The kind of voice a man should have, Tonks thought wildly, turning her head away sharply, not wanting to look at him. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, in such a clumsy state. She shook her head vehemently, glancing up, cursing herself and hating her clumsiness and how weak she was.

“No. I…oh,” she whispered, feeling her voice falter and crack as she looked up at the new arrival. The man standing in front of her with his hand outstretched to help her up had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. Tonks guessed he must have gotten used to that, the sudden pause in a person’s natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course, the blush that accompanied it was a dead give-away. It didn't help that he was so modest with it, it made the girls fall for him even more.

Tonks could tell that this was a man who cared greatly for others, the way his brow furrowed in a slight frown as his gaze drifted towards her toe.

She felt the heat rise to her cheek and suddenly she became painfully conscious of her toe, but she had immediately begun to appreciate her decision to dress up tonight. _My God, those eyes_ , she thought, feeling slightly dazed.

“It doesn’t look too bad. Have Mrs. Weasley look at it before you leave.”

“I…um…yes, I—I will,” Tonks stammered, cursing herself yet again. _Oh, God, what is WRONG with me?_ Her conscience was screaming at her to play it cool.

Despite all the opportunity that came his way he was a one-woman-man who prized genuineness and thoughtful conversation above lipstick and high-heels. He was handsome alright, but inside he was beautiful. This she knew.

“What’s your name?” he asked kindly. As he helped her up, their fingers briefly brushed, touching slightly. He noticed, jerking his hand away as though the simple gesture had burned his hands, a light blush speckling across his thin, slightly gaunt cheeks. The man, who was a few older than her, seeming to be in his mid-thirties, and she had recently celebrated her twenty-second birthday last week. He had tousled light brown hair, which was thick and lustrous, flecked with the beginning streaks of gray. Tonks would never admit it out loud to anyone, least of all not this stranger, but she found it suited him.

 _It's hot_ , she thought, visibly wincing and turning her head away sharply.

His eyes were a mesmerizing a light brown. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eyebrows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression. His usually playful smile had drawn into a hard line across his face. His perfect lips ripe for the kissing.

His strong hands, slightly rough from working, held mine as he stared deep into my eyes. Tonks couldn't help but blush. His smile etched its way back into his face, making him look years younger than he seemed. He really did look better when he smiled. Tonks wasn’t even aware she was staring at him until a voice from the kitchen’s entryway interrupted the silent moment they were having. “Tonks,” came Molly Weasley’s inviting, warm, matronly voice. “I see you’ve managed to meet Remus Lupin at last. I thought, perhaps, the two of you would get along, hence why I invited you for dinner. Also, Dumbledore’s paired the two of you on a mission together upcoming, so I thought…well, get to know each other,” the redheaded woman happily chirped, rushing to engulf the young woman in a tight hug that threatened to crush her very ribcage. 

Tonks liked Mrs. Weasley; in the short period of time she’d known the older woman. A short, stout, slightly plump woman with a vibrant head of red hair and the uncanny ability to seemingly see straight into Tonks’ heart and soul.

“Beautiful,” murmured the man whom Tonks now knew to be called Remus, keeping his voice low enough so that no one else could hear it, but she had.

Tonks couldn’t find her voice, though she could feel Remus Lupin staring at her, content to watch the young Auror as Molly ushered the pair into the kitchen, where everyone else had already gathered around the table, the smell of marinara, meatballs, and fresh garlic bread reaching Tonks’ nostrils, eliciting a loud growl from the pits of her stomach, long and painful, reminding her she’d not eaten anything other than a bagel with cream cheese for breakfast this morning. She felt her cheeks flush hot, her stomach heavy as she helped herself to a plate and searched the table, finally setting on one at the far end. Her heart pounded in her throat, threatening to break out. Remus’s eyes wandered the length of the table, searching for a seat as well, but Tonks’ stayed locked on his. How many stupid love songs had she heard that said, “He takes my breath away?” Now, suddenly, that line made a whole lot of sense.

Her body numbed as Remus Lupin approached, and she became painfully aware of the fact that her already pale face had drained of what little color was left, probably making her look like a corpse, the dark purple of her hair only proving to make her skin look rather washed out and a little peaky, but…but…

“Love the hair,” he whispered, keeping his voice low enough so that only she could hear, and he was momentarily startled as he watched as Tonks’ hair involuntarily changed from the dark purple to a bright, cherry red. “What..?”

“I—I’m a Metamorphmagus,” she mumbled, blushing as she scrunched her face in a moment of deep concentration, forcing her hair to return to its purple color. “I don’t know of many others like me, I—I haven’t thought to check.”

He looked impressed as he passed around the basket of breadsticks that Molly was making sure made its way around the table. “Breadstick?” he asked courteously, not even waiting for her answer before he plunked one on her plate. “Molly spent at least an hour and a half on this meal. Her cooking’s like nothing else. You’ll enjoy it, though if I know Mrs. Weasley, she’ll force second helpings on your plate,” he joked, his gaze briefly wandering the length of her body, appreciating her slim form in her simple maxi dress, how petite she was.

“Thanks,” she managed to choke out, immediately reaching for her water glass. “So…what do you do?” she asked, eyeing the handsome man out of the corner of her eye, noticing his scars on his face. Mangled, horrible jagged lines of pink and white covered his face, starting at the tip of his brow, slashing across his face in a diagonal line, ending at the corner of his lips. “You…”

But she found herself at a loss for words as she stared at Remus.

He noticed where she was looking and flinched. “I…if you and I are going to be…partners,” he added, wincing at the intimacy of the word, “then you deserve to know the truth. I’m a…” But his voice faltered as he whispered it.

“ _What_?” asked Tonks, dumbfounded. “What did you say?” 

He mumbled it again, his lips barely moving and looking suddenly tense.

“Just speak _louder_ ,” huffed Tonks in a moment of annoyance. At that, his head whiplashed sharply upwards and he seemed to lose his patience.

“I SAID I’m a werewolf!” he bellowed, slamming his fist on the table in a moment of agitation and visibly winced as the entire table swiveled their heads to look in his direction. His face reddened maddingly and Sirius immediately came to his best friend’s rescue and launched into a story.

“Merlin’s beard, _shh_!” whispered Tonks urgently. “That’s what I thought you said,” she joked as she shoveled a bite of spaghetti and meatball into her mouth. “Oh, yeah, this is the stuff. Beats me living off fish and chips any day.” 

She bit into the breadstick. The bread had a crunch to the crust that brought back so many good memories, and the crumb was that wholesome taste of rustic grain. In that moment of flavor, she heard her mother’s voice. She heard how Andromeda Tonks spoke, as if each word contained a spoon of love and laughter. Tonks wondered if that’s why people always called food ‘hearty,’ because it was made with such heart. And just a little touch of magic, of course.

Remus’s brain seemed to stutter for a moment, and his eyes took in more light than he expected. Every part of him went on pause while his thoughts caught up. Sensing his discomfort, she did not know what possessed her to do so, but Tonks reached up a friendly hand and clapped him on the back. “It’ll be okay. It will,” she promised, flashing him a charming white smile that he loved.

He could tell just by the way that she walked as she briefly left the table to help herself to a second helping of meatballs and another breadstick that she was slightly insecure. Her shoulders were hunched over as if hiding the treasure inside of her. Her footsteps were light and timid as she slowly approached, watching him through skittish, wide gray eyes.

The young Auror’s eyes reminded Remus of ashes and smoke blowing in the wind coming from a fire that burned everything to the ground. They were intense, coming from that fire that burned deep within her soul. Her eyes were grey, not a dull, unremarkable grey like that of concrete or stone. They were the grey of the last ashes on a fire, tossed up on the breeze; the grey of a pigeon's wing, soft as down; the grey of the ocean an instant before dawn's first rays strike the water. Those eyes glanced Remus’s way only once and ensnared him from that moment in a net of intrigue. He knew he liked her.

A lot. He could only imagine what thoughts were swirling around in the young woman’s mind. Thoughts like, _what does he think of me? Does he like me? Will I say the right thing?_ Remus knew these thoughts all too well daily, anytime he investigated a mirror, at his scars, the lines and grooves on his worn face. He smiled at her warmly, hoping to lighten the burden she carried on herself. Then something amazing happened, like a light turning on in a dark room. Her eyes lightened, and she smiled back. _Wow_ , he wondered, _smiles really do have power over us, don’t they? Just as hers has power over me, I think, and—_ _No_ , his voices inside his head instructed him. _Don’t let her get too close_.

Words left him as he still struggled to process her words. He stared into those bright gray orbs burning with curiosity, and his heart fell silent.

“Did you not hear me?” Remus demanded incredulously, hardly daring to believe it. He could not seem to will his lips to move as he waited for an answer. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled, murky.

“Oh, I heard you,” Tonks chirped up happily, setting down her fork, waving her wand once and lazily catching the unopened bottle of red wine, pouring herself a glass and one for Lupin as well. “How did you want me to react?”

His mind went blank, his brown eyes wide as he stared at the young woman with the vibrant purple pixie cut in horror, and slight…arousal as well. The feeling was foreign, new to him. She had not reacted like he expected her to.

His eyes desperately searched Tonks’, waiting. He had to say something!

Remus searched his mind for something reasonable to say, but to his surprise, his heart answered for him. “I—I don’t know,” he admitted sheepishly, reaching up a hand to scratch at an itch behind his right ear.

Tonks glanced down the length of the table absentmindedly towards her cousin, where he was in the middle of entertaining Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad Eye with a story of him and James Potter and Remus from their youth.

One of their newer recruits, a witch in the Department of Accidental Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, a cute enough woman by the name of Amelie, whooshed past her as if this were her house, not Sirius’s, and perched in a chair next to her cousin. Tonks watched as she waited for Sirius to say something, but he did not. She flicked that white blonde hair to one side in what Tonks knew to be a conscious act. So, Tonks reluctantly looked at her.

Dangling from her perfect lobes are diamonds set in white gold. They are exquisite, accentuating the length of her neck. They cost more than Tonks made in a month. She realized she’d held her gaze too long. Her face was one of triumph and a quick glance back towards Remus showed her he did not have the decency to be embarrassed. But then why should he?

 _There's nothing romantic between us_. Tonks eyed the older man over the rim of her glass cautiously as she drank, letting the wine linger and settle on her tongue. She could not quite explain it, but she felt drawn to this man, Remus Lupin, werewolf or not. It was odd for her to make a connection so fast, and she’d known this man all of fifteen minutes at best, to give her trust so easily, tentative to her though it was. The two of them learned over the course of the dinner that Dumbledore was sending Remus and Tonks to spy on a coven of nearby werewolves, Greyback.

 _Oh, shit_ , thought Tonks desperately, but did not have time to dwell on it.

They would have to do this. It was for the greater good, or so she believed.

There was something in the way Remus smiled, a warmth, a genuineness, a softness of his spirit that Tonks could just not pass up. He listened to her as she spoke, launching into a separate conversation to distract him from his confession about his lycanthropic condition, he listened like he was absorbing her words, not simply getting her ‘turn’ over and done with so he could return to some other topic. The more time she spent with Remus John Lupin over dinner, the more her spirit lifted. He was the new friend she’d needed.

It was over dessert, chocolate cake that Molly had painstakingly labored over. They’d chosen to split a slice, Tonks occasionally, would feed him a bite off her own fork, ignoring the delighted glances Molly and Arthur shot them.

“You hide a lot, don’t you?” came Remus’s question. She was not prepared.

Poor Tonks almost swallowed her bite of cake prematurely, reaching for her glass of water, turning to take in the expression on her new friend’s face.

His gaze was steady, unwavering and unabashed, eyes wide like an innocent child. Tonks drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs. This wasn’t even fourth date material and this new guy wanted to play see-through-the-skin.

“How do you mean?” she asked, immediately shoveling another bite of cake into her mouth to avoid looking at him, swirling around the frosting. “Hmm?”

Remus paused before answering, his voice dropping to a softer octave. “Everything you’ve said so far tonight is a mask, but each thing gives me a clue to you, the real you, the one hiding behind the shy smile and your different colors of hair,” he added, smirking as her pixie turned bright red in embarrassment again, for perhaps the second or third time, something of a record for the young woman, or so she had said. Not many had the ability to do this to her, he should be flattered, she had told him, and he secretly was.

“I…” Tonks’s voice trailed off and her smile faltered as she gazed at him.

“You could just cut it out, and let me in, you know. Let me into that fragile head of yours.” This time Tonks bolted from her chair and took a physical step backward, careful to mind her step and not trip and break her _other_ toe again.

Remus just watched, eyes still like a Muggle car’s headlights on full beam, his expression serene and quite calm as he watched his new friend process his words. “Aren’t you going to sit back down?” he asked, patting her chair.

Tonks spluttered something incoherent, and, much to her amazement as she glanced around the kitchens, saw that it was only the two of them remaining.

 _When did they leave?_ She thought wildly, glancing around the room.

But she found her gaze landing back on Remus and she froze, rooted to her spot by her chair, unable to move. There was kindness in his smile, a gentleness. It was the smile of one who laughed with ease and saw person under the behavior, a soul-connector. He was the kind of person who lived how he believed people should, as if he were sunshine that only radiated from the best aspects of those he met, their flaws entirely invisible to his gaze. He was a calm sea, soothing to her fractured soul and shattered, broken heart.

Yet, most of all, he was her friend. That was the night Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks’ lives changed. Forever, for better or worse.


	3. A Moment with Molly and Arthur

Remus John Lupin had been all logic and feigned cool detachment until their fingers had touched when he’d helped Tonks up off the floor earlier. Then something foreign and unfamiliar not only stirred within him, but it overtook his thinking. The rest of his world became an unimportant blur that was banished into the far recesses of his mind. The only thing that mattered was finding an excuse not to leave Tonks’ side, to touch her more. As he’d watched her smile throughout the evening, and the way she seemed to almost float across the kitchen in a strangely ethereal way, not at all like her rather clumsy entrance from earlier when she’d kicked over that damn umbrella stand, he began to have inappropriate thoughts of the young witch, as the shadow of the wolf danced across his face, stirring something deep within himself, darkness.

He wanted her on her back, he wanted her on top, any way he could take her for himself, really. To claim her fully as his mate for life, and she was his. As Lupin continued having these wild thoughts of the young woman, he knew it was his inner wolf speaking, threatening to come loose as his time of the month was almost upon him yet again. His lip curled and his nostrils flared, and he released a low, guttural growl at the thought of their mission. She would be in the company of other lycanthropes, other werewolves, and that thought alone was enough to make poor Remus’s blood boil. She was _his_.

“Get a hold of yourself,” he whisper-hissed through clenched teeth, baring his canines and clutching his mug in his hand hard enough to crack the cup.

_Tonks is not yours, and she will never be yours. Get that through your skull_. His mind felt as if lead were coursing through his veins instead of blood. He could not bare to look in the mirror across the way at his reflection, for fear of what he might find there. The shadow of the wolf upon his features. If he made eye contact with his reflection, Lupin thought he might vomit. Disgust. Total disgust with himself, at who he was, what he represented. These thoughts he was having of the young witch with the vibrant purple hair were incredibly inappropriate and all together _wrong_ , but Merlin’s beard, he couldn’t seem to get enough of what had just happened here tonight. Remus’s shoulders were slumped, and his eyes cast downward in a mournful gaze. His mouth was set in a semi-pout as he remained alone in the kitchen. Stunned. There was no other word that would adequately describe the whirlwind vortex of emotions that was going through Remus’s head long after the young woman—his new partner this summer, so it would seem—had fled.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked so much. She had seemed to show a genuine interest in his life, with no apprehension or fear towards his lycanthropy. It was perhaps the first instance in his life of this, at least, a woman other than perhaps Lily or Mrs. Weasley, to take an interest in him. His thoughts were plagued by everything the young woman had said.

He had, perhaps against his better judgement, happily agreed to meet her for lunch during her break tomorrow, to get to know her better. For the mission. At least, that’s what he told himself, though he had an entirely selfish reason for agreeing to meet her. To simply be in her presence. To feel happy.

Visions of her face still danced in his mind, and he knew that this impending partnership was leading him down a very dangerous path indeed.

Befriending her, and dare he even have an inkling of hope that were it to ever progress beyond friendship, well, that was something he couldn’t allow.

For to come to Nymphadora Tonks was forbidden, yet to stay away from her, even that thought along made his heart ache just a twinge, and— _for God’s sake, I just met the woman!_ His inner conscience was chastising him, torturing.

There was something about Nymphadora Tonks that made him feel so young inside, but not in a childish way. She woke the pure side of Remus, the best side, the facets of himself that only required love to be healthy and whole. Should he ever be fortunate enough to have an eternity with this woman, he would sink into serenity, just content to be close to the woman with the vibrant purple (and sometimes pink!) hair. Their energy together, as proven to Remus several times over the course of dinner this evening, vibrated in such a unique way, he’d never developed a connection quite like this with another.

_There’s no doubt about it_ , his conscience taunted him. _You’re smitten_.

“No, no, no, that’s insane!” he snapped, airily brushing away the voices inside his head with a wave of his hand, the other clutching his mug tightly.

But still, he could not seem to stop these horrible, intrusive thoughts. Tonks’ serene gray, haunting eyes drenched his memory, how she had looked at him through the night. Remus knew that developing a relationship with this woman would only break him, but even now, the idea was insane, but he wanted it more than anything, if she would ever think of him in those terms. Remus remained locked in his own self-pity, the kind that only brought him sorrow, for he had temporarily allowed his heart to stray where it should not, and now his mind was forced to pull it back to within confines in which he permitted it to roam, and he could not—would not—think of _her_ that way. Tonks’ words rocked his mind, leaving it moving in forward ways, ways he’d become unaccustomed to these many years of living in solitude. She was nothing more than an echo now, but one with the power to tear down the walls he’d built high and deep around his heart, refusing to let anyone see him.

Her smile along burnished Remus’s soul into a beauty it could never have achieved on its own. All evening, whenever she had glanced his way with those haunting gray eyes of hers, he would silently inhale a breath so sharp that it physically hurt him, hoping and praying her thoughts about him were good.

A crush was nothing more than a lust for someone. But that did not change anything in Remus’s mind. Tonks was still in his mind, even three hours after she had left for home, and here he still sat, in the dark at the kitchen table.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. When their eyes locked this evening, hers burned his like he’d been staring at the sun for entirely too long.

Remus knew that she was his crush, but she would never be his. Ever.

_You’re falling for her_ , his voice taunted him again, like clockwork. _Hard_.

He let out a heavy sigh, thumping his hand to his forehead and dragging it down the side of his face in anguish, running a hand through his light brown hair. Though he wanted to befriend his new partner, to want her, he would most likely have to walk away. It was what was best for her, after all. Safer.

In this world, this place where his kind were shunned, emotions for a woman this strong amongst his fellow werewolves were considered suspicious, and he had other priorities right now to think about than the health of his heart and mind, and wondering what a young woman thought of him. If that wasn’t conflicted, then Remus did not know what was. “Jesus.”

It was said that once you had mastered being alone, you were ready for the company of others. That did not make it easy for Remus, though. When everyone else’s life journey was separated from his own, it wasn’t something most could take. He wanted what most in this life took for granted—his own life, free from prejudices of his condition, someone to care for, to know the simple joys of being loved and his feelings reciprocated. But he would never have it, not with his condition. Or, as James once called it, his ‘furry problem.’

The darkness swirled around his tense, terse form as he sat rigidly in his chair, tendrils of inkling bleak reminders of his life of permanent solitude.

The silence echoed in Remus’s ears was the constant white noise that never shut the hell up. His head swam in the fire burning inside, the only smoldering embers of a time when there had been other presences with him, around him, even at dinner, had it not been for young Tonks’ company, he would have most assuredly felt alone and isolated, same as he had every day.

But now, the void had been slowly filled with a cold, howling storm of fear that refused to ever let up. He was completely and utterly alone in his mind, body, soul, and most of all, entirely alone in a world that was harsh and cruel.

The slight, muffled noise of low murmurings reached his eardrums as a white, blinding beam of light filled the kitchen as someone—Molly from the sounds of it—sent light towards the chandelier hanging above the table with a practiced flick of her wrist, before wearily collapsing into the seat across him.

“What are you still doing up, Remus?” she asked cautiously, and it did not escape Lupin’s attention the developing purple bags underneath Molly’s eyes, which earned her a frown from Remus in her general direction. It became clear to him that she had not received a full night’s rest in perhaps days, or months.

“Thinking,” came his curt answer, his hands clutched around his coffee mug. He would have settled for tea, but coffee was calling to him instead this evening. The steam that had risen from the coffee when he’d first placed it on the table was quite gone. The top bore the telltale signs of a skin forming.

Still, Remus sat there with his hands clasped around it, as if he liked the idea of drinking it, but lacked the will power to lift it to his lips and drink it.

Molly and Arthur exchanged a slightly knowing little smirk amongst themselves. Remus noticed the gesture and furrowed his brow into a frown.

“We heard the two of you talking almost all night,” added Arthur, a slightly mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he glanced at his watch. “I hope that you can develop a relationship with this girl. With Tonks.”

Remus felt himself grow suddenly inexplicably defensive. “Yeah,” he answered, thinking that it would do him no good here to lie to the Weasleys. “We were _trying_ to figure out a best method to infiltrate Greyback’s camp. That’s it, you two. That’s all we talked about. Nothing more, nothing less, so don’t ask me for any more details, but I’m not sharing anything. I swore it.”

Molly, not buying it for an instant, quirked her brow his way. “Oh, look at that, Arthur, I think this is the first time we’ve made him jealous. You sure? Because it sure didn’t _look_ like that kind of conversation to me, Lupin. Don’t you lie to us! You _like_ this girl, admit it. Why can’t you let yourself feel that?”

He froze, not having anticipated that Molly would call him out on it so fast.

“She—no, Molly, that’s—that’s ridiculous,” he managed, fumbling over his words and finally lifting the coffee mug to his lips and taking a sip, if only for the distraction so he wouldn’t have to avoid the Weasleys’ piercing gazes. “I—”

“Have yourself quite the partner,” finished Mr. Weasley sardonically, chuckling a little at how pink and flushed Remus’s face was becoming. “We’ve said it all along, Lupin, that you’re taking a ridiculous stance on your love life. Or lack thereof, I guess we should say,” he added, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“My kind shouldn’t even be allowed to mate, let alone _breed_!” he shouted, slamming his fist down on the table in a moment of anger, startling the couple.

“No one said anything about… _that_ ,” managed Molly at last, her face pink. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders for warmth and leaned forward in her seat, folding her fingers neatly together and fixing Remus with a cold, hard stare, one bereft of warmth and matronly love. Most unusual.

“Then why bring up Nymphadora at three o’clock in the morning?” Remus snapped, hating the harsh, almost dog-like bark to his voice, how angry he was.

It was Molly who came to the rescue, as always. “We saw the way she looked at you. The girl couldn’t keep her eyes off you all throughout dinner, and you’re more so the fool if you couldn’t see it.” Remus, forever a peace advocate, wanted nothing more in the moment to wipe that smug little smirk off Molly’s face with a jinx, but he bit his tongue and resisted the very urge.

“We’re just _friends_ ,” he emphasized heavily, averting their gaze.

“Tonks likes you,” added Arthur with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, waving his wand and leaning back in his chair as a platter of biscuits appeared out of midair. “Have a biscuit, Lupin,” he added, his tone sounding exhausted.

“Have—what?” Remus murmured, looking suddenly startled and at a loss.

“Have a biscuit,” emphasized Arthur, now sounding highly annoyed, shoving the plate towards him. Reluctantly, Remus took one against better judgement, not at all hungry, but thinking it would be rude of him to refuse.

Remus shot Arthur a dark look, begrudgingly taking a bite of the cookie.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, looking up towards Molly, and immediately wishing that he had not. “ _What_?” he demanded, his voice terse and his posture rigid. His normally kind brown eyes narrowed until they were naught but slits.

Arthur chuckled, removing his glasses and wiping them on his shirt sleeve.

“You like her,” he laughed, unable to keep his happiness to himself.

“I…don’t…that’s—that’s completely beside the point, you lot!” Remus snapped, cringing and hating that he was becoming more flustered by the second. “I can assure both of you that there is nothing romantic between us.”

“Why not?” challenged Molly hotly, the corners of her mouth twitching as she fought back a kind smile. “You want to know what I think?” she asked.

Remus didn’t, but couldn’t very well say that, so he resorted to nodding.

“I believe that each of us deserves a chance at love. And I know, it’s going to sound silly, but there is someone out there for everyone, and we believe in love. How could we not?” Molly added, instinctively reaching for her husband’s hand as it settled overtop Arthur’s. Remus noticed and felt his heartstrings tug.

“Where are you going with this, Molly? I presume your story has a point, doesn’t it? Get on with it, then,” snapped Remus moodily, letting out a sigh.

Molly offered Remus a small, wry, sad little smile. “Now I know some say there’s no such thing as true love, that it all ends in heartbreak and pain, but I think that’s the beauty of it. To have something so perfect for such a short while, and then for it to disappear into nothing. It’s an endless loop, never ending, always on the move. You never know where it will take you. That's the thing about love, it's so beautiful and mysterious and magical. I believe we all deserve a chance at love, because we all deserve something magical. And for me, my magic started at a simple coffee shop in Hogsmeade one winter…”

Arthur noticed Remus’s growing discomfort and was quick to add in his two cents. “All we’re saying is, that we do not think anything less of you because of your lycanthropy. You are no beast, Remus, you are a man, and it’s time you started seeing yourself as such. You are perfectly capable of having the things you’ve told us in past times that you’ve wanted: a family, a wife, a place to call home. You’re the only one standing in your way telling yourself you can’t.” With a groan as he rose from his chair, he motioned for his wife to join him, sensing the aching heartbreak in the much younger man’s eyes.

“Just think about it tomorrow when you’re on your date,” Molly piped up.

Remus didn’t bother to correct her as they vacated the kitchen.

It wasn’t a date…was it? His focus was scattered, so filled with nervous anticipation was he, so excited, even giddy. He couldn't hold a conversation or sit still while his thoughts danced in infinite directions. Yet he had to get through the day in one piece. His entire world had changed tonight as soon as she knocked over that stupid umbrella stand, and tomorrow morning, he hoped, was their first date. He could picture it already - holding hands, a tingling feeling spreading throughout his entire body. He would take her for a walk through the park and count the ducks; it seemed the most natural thing in all the world. And she, his special woman. No magic, just the two of them, alone. Remus remained rooted to his kitchen chair. He ached when he saw her smile. He wanted it to be directed towards him. For him. Because of him. He wanted to be the one to bring Tonks joy, to be the source of those lit eyes that had bewitched him and her brilliant dimpled smile that made his heart pound against its chest so hard it was like a rock rattling in a box. He’d watched her throughout the course of a single evening bring so much happiness to others.

Nymphadora Tonks was a woman who knew how to find beauty in others, even perhaps, especially, when that person could not see it in themselves.

She tried so hard to do well. She worked hard. The young Auror fought for every step, even if it wasn’t always in the right direction, as proven when she and Mad-Eye, prior to leaving, had gotten into a squabble over a previous raid.

She wanted to fly, and now she was soaring, but that did not stop his feelings. He was afraid. He was so afraid that she would crash, and that Remus would have to watch it happen to her. He ached to think there would be no way for him to help her if she did. Remus had been content to watch her tonight. It became almost an immediate source of guilt for him and he hated it.

If he had no place in her life, then why did he want to be near her so much?

If she noticed, Remus was scared what Nymphadora thought of him. He had never been heartbroken before, preferring to keep women at arm’s length. Not because he didn’t want a relationship, but because he was a danger to society.

For that, sometimes he was glad he knew that she would not. They could never be together, not in the way he truly wanted. That was probably a good thing, he mused bitterly, lifting his coffee mug and drinking the now cold brew.

When they met again tomorrow over lunch, when they spoke; what would she think of him? That’s what scared him the most, he knew it. For just a split second, he was wondering if it was better that they do not meet at all, that he flee. Maybe it would be better for Tonks if he let her fade away from his life, back out of it like she had never been there. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that he could not do such a foolish thing. He couldn’t let go.

Remus wondered if Tonks had ever read the words he did, the ones a child would never forget, as he had not forgotten at such a young age? ‘Kindred spirits.’ Or, as he preferred to think of it, a perfect match. Those words made him think of Tonks. Was that the truth or simply his wish? His instinct told him that it was true. But in the same thought, Remus knew they wouldn’t agree.

The same thoughts or feelings, but with a different approach, perhaps? He wanted to be there, next to her, to hold her hand, to feel the soft, smooth skin of her palm entwined with his own. To dry her tears if ever she cried. To take the pain and anger he knew that she hid so well from others. Yet, here he sat, unmoving, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow. To develop an unattainable desire was not wise, this he knew.

He knew it the minute he’d helped her off the floor, this was a dangerous game he was playing, and it would be better for both parties if he quit it. But the ache wouldn’t fade, and thoughts of her refused to leave his mind. Like it or not, as he stayed up late into the early hours of the morning ruminating over the swirling vortex of confused emotions and thoughts running through his mind, he knew that he was smitten with Nymphadora.

_Merlin help me_ , he thought, anguished. But as usual, no one listened.


	4. Andromeda's Antics

Tonks could only truly sleep when exhausted. When she felt the tiredness in her chest, in how she breathed and her thoughts dragged by in slow motion, she slunk to a quiet spot in her little flat in London and curled up. On good nights, she’d get three, maybe four hours, on bad nights sometimes two. Should she doze later, she’d wake as soon as sleep would come to her, always as fast as if a jinx had sounded, firing right past her ear. Her heartbeat would increase, her breathing as if she’d just surfaced from deep underwater. After that, it was time to get up, to do something, to keep moving and start her day at her job. As hard as it was for the Metamorphmagus to try and not hold her breath, she knew deep down, she had to hold reason to. Along with work, attempting to keep any sort of social life, the occasional romantic spark still being lit and her family drama, it was safe to say she felt as if her life was drowning with no hope of being saved. As if trying to keep her head above water when the tide was only shallow, and was a real burden not only to herself, but everyone around her. Her mother, father, even perhaps her new friend, Remus. Swallowing hard, she clutched furiously at her chest, hoping that by a scratch or a simple graze, her heart would stop racing, and her body just might entirely shut down—causing her clarity for once in her life. The fluorescent numbers of the magical alarm clock beside her bedside table teased her with the time of three a.m. and she harshly rubbed at her tired eyes with bruised palms, yawning only gently. Slowly and reluctantly, Tonks uncovered her face. She could not seem to get these flashing images of Lupin’s face out of her mind. She blinked, closed her eyes, and blinked again. Streaks of moonlight penetrated the window. Not quite a full moon but almost.

_Another few days and it will be_ , she thought. _I hope he’s safe_. Frustrated, heaving a heavy sigh, she sat up, dragged her bare feet off the king size bed, and rubbed her knuckles onto her eyes.

Tonks stretched her arms above her head and yawned. The Auror watched her legs dangle above the off-white polyester carpet. Glancing at the clock, she still had another two hours before it was set to go off, and she would have to ready herself for work, but she couldn’t sleep anyways, so no time like the present, right? “Right.” Grumbling to herself, she rose from her bed before the bright idea to go back to sleep overtook her, undressing as she padded noiselessly to the bathroom. She stepped into the shower, toes flinching, and she inhaled a sharp breath of near-frigid air as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. Her mind was in shreds, unable to think of nothing but Lupin. His voice—smooth, melodious, rich and deep, and his lips, oh, his lips! Plump and ripe for the kissing. She’d been tempted on more than one occasion last night to reach up and trace the outline of his lips with the edge of her finger if he would have allowed it, but she hadn’t wanted to scare him off as easily as they had met, so she fought it. She turned off the shower, stepping out, waving her wand once and immediately the water evaporated, her skin pristine, clean, and dry. Tonks sighed as she headed towards her closet, selecting a pair of simple black pants, black ballet flat, a white cami, and a gray short sleeve cardigan over top that, with a pair of simple white studs in her ears. Not her usual working attire, but then, it wasn’t every day that she had a date on her lunch break, was it? Wait. A date. Is it that? Her conscience was taunting her.

Unable to think of nothing but Remus since last night, she’d not slept a wink, opting to shower instead and get a head start towards her day. Tonks let out a weary sigh as she grabbed her little black crossbody and her wand as she bolted towards the kitchen, where the scent of hot coffee already being brewed reached her nostrils as she reached the kitchen nook. Her mother, as usual, had let herself into her apartment and was already at the stove, tapping a heated pot with her wand and a creamy substance, probably some kind of porridge, flowed from the tip. Andromeda Tonks barely glanced up as her daughter entered. “Tell me you haven’t been up all night.”

Finally, she glanced up, brushing a lock of dark hair that had fallen loose from her bun as she continued to mind the stove.

“Oh, Dora, tell me you haven’t been up all night,” she pleaded desperately.

Tonks barely glanced up from her steaming mug of coffee, pulling a face, reluctantly trading her vibrant pink pixie for a more subtle black color, one that would not earn her disapproving looks from the more senior Ministry members. “I haven’t been up all night,” she parroted, her expression flat as she stifled a huge yawn with the back of her hand, slinging her purse over the back of her chair.

Andromeda Tonks quirked a thin brow her daughter’s way, a talent that had its uses. It had never failed in the ability to make her daughter slightly uneasy, usually prompting the truth out of her in a heartbeat. Andromeda Tonks could have graced any wizarding billboard or magazine cover, but she was better than those models.

Somehow, her imperfections made her perfect. There was a certain shyness to her, hesitation in her body movements, and a quiet softness in her voice. Her set of maroon colored robes had a tailored look that was bold against her pale skin and long dark hair that at times often mistook her for one of her sisters, Bellatrix Lestrange.

Andromeda had always hated the comparison and had been caught off from the Lestrange family tree, a fact which she was proud of.

“Seriously?” she challenged, flicking her wand and carefully monitoring the hot bowl of porridge as it flew towards the table and landed with a gentle thud in front of her daughter. “Don’t you lie to me, Dora! What were you doing last night? Were you with the Order? Wait,” she added, narrowing her dark eyes in suspicion.

Tonks blushed, opting to shovel a spoonful of porridge into her mouth, scrunching her nose at the plainness of it, conjuring a small bowl of brown sugar and proceeded to dump a few spoonful’s into it. “What?” she mumbled through a mouthful of porridge and toast.

“I know that look,” began Andromeda cautiously. She let out a weary sigh and collapsed against the back of her chair. “Okay. So, who is he and where’d you meet this one? Is he nice, respectable?”

Tonks blushed under the scrutiny of her mother’s gaze. “You could say that,” she began slowly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

“What’s his name?” Andromeda asked, waving her wand with a lazy flick of her wrist and helping herself to a fresh bowl of porridge for herself. She glanced up from her own light sprinkling of brown sugar over the hot cereal and chuckled. “You have stardust in your eyes, dear. He must really be quite a looker, then, I take it. Can’t wait to meet him if you let this one into your life for more than a month.” Her statement finished, Andromeda fell silent and waited.

“I…” Tonks’s voice left her. To that, she had no response. “Yes. His name is Remus, Mom. Remus John Lupin,” she whispered, not caring if her mother saw the sudden, faraway look in her gray eyes.

The Auror blushed as her mother’s brow furrowed into a slight frown. “He sounds nice,” Andromeda mused out loud, tapping her manicured finger against her chin thoughtfully. “When is he coming over? I assume at some point you’re inviting him over for dinner?”

“Maybe. He—we—Dumbledore paired us together on an upcoming Order mission,” snapped Tonks, feeling her defenses suddenly go up. “For Merlin’s sake, Mom, I just only met the man last night! He agreed to meet me for lunch during my break today. We’re just friends, that’s it. Nothing more, nothing more. That’s all,” she began, pushing her bowl of porridge away, not hungry.

Andromeda let a dark little chuckle escape her lips. “Just friends. Okay,” she laughed, not buying it at all. “Perhaps, but since when has that ever stopped you before?” At that thought, she sniffed in disapproval and crinkled her nose, and Tonks was startled as the simple gesture made her look more like Bellatrix than before.

“Stop that!” shouted Tonks, shrinking as far back into her chair as she could go. “You know I hate it when you make that face! Quit!”

Her mother’s expression softened as she lifted the rim of her tea mug to her lips and drank heavily, her gaze never leaving her daughter’s as she studied Nymphadora over the rim of her mug.

She let out a hearty little sigh. “Very well,” she admitted, setting down her cup at last and shoving it aside. “I’ll tell Ted in a few months then to expect your new…friend, over for dinner. I hope at least this one doesn’t have so many godforsaken piercings, Drom! What you ever saw in that Adam boy, even I don’t know, dear!”

Tonks frowned at the mention of her last failed relationship. “I don’t know either, Mom,” she sighed. “And no, no, he doesn’t have any piercings or wild hair or anything like that, so you can relax,” she explained quickly. “He’s a…was a professor.” At that, her mother’s stern frown lightened, and she smiled, sagging her shoulders in relief and closing her weary eyes.

“Thank Merlin for that,” Andromeda muttered darkly, waving her wand and clearing away their breakfast bowls. She glanced up at the clock hanging above the mantle, brushing a lock of dark hair out of her face. “You should go. Otherwise you’ll be late, Dora,” she said.

Tonks heaved another heavy sigh, grabbing her wand and purse and Apparated on the spot without so much as a goodbye to her mother. Her mother stared after the place where their daughter had vanished, before immediately turning on her heel and vanishing into thin air in almost the exact same spot her daughter had departed.

“How’s Dora?” came Ted’s booming, jovial, baritone voice.

“Fine,” muttered Andromeda quietly, lifting her chin slightly to meet her husband’s gaze. “She’s seemingly got a new friend these days,” she added, noticing her husband roll and narrow his eyes.

“What’s this one like?” he spat from behind his newspaper.

“Former professor at Hogwarts, so she says. No piercings,” Andromeda added quickly, noticing her husband’s face pale in color.

Ted Tonks breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Thank Merlin!”

“I know,” she confessed, collapsing onto the sofa next to Ted, wearily rubbing his broad shoulder. “I hope this one is a vast improvement over the last. I just want our girl to be happy, Ted.”

“I know, sweetheart. And she will be. Dora’s strong, capable of making her own decisions. I don’t know much about this new fellow you say she met last night, but he must be quite something if it kept her out until three o clock in the morning. Quite a looker, too, I bet,” Ted mused out loud, “but I think I like him already, if he doesn’t have the wild and crazy piercings, let alone the outbursts the last young man Tonks brought home to us did,” he grumbled.

Andromeda chuckled, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear, settling into the sofa next to Ted. “No, no, this one sounds quite nice. If he makes her happy, then I like him already. That’s good enough for me, if Dora likes him, then he’s as good as our family.”

“When can we expect him over for dinner?” he asked, feeling the beginnings of a mischievous grin tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I give it a month,” mumbled Andromeda, sensing where Ted was going. “But…” she added lovingly, twirling a dark curl in her fingers, “I don’t suppose you’d like to add a pool? Play for Sickles?”

Ted didn’t bother to fight his smile. “You’re on, Mrs. Tonks.”


	5. Unexpected Development

The werewolf slunk like he was part of the shadow world, only visiting the mortal creatures to feed and transform the young ones. His heart was cold, and his mind had no room for pity. For his "heaven" was one with many victims to consume, victims who became paralyzed with fear before he dined on their soft flesh. Their cries were music to his ears, their blood the finest perfume. To watch them suffer was his serenity, his joy. But his greatest satisfaction lay in taking away loved ones; he could taste the difference. Knowing that he'd struck a blow into the lives of their families and friends was sickly sweet, intoxicating, more addictive even than the flesh. The leader of the pack was no ordinary predator. He was perhaps the only of their kind that had almost ‘human’ eyes, the only sound in the alleyway was his breathing, his flaring nostrils as he took in the fellow werewolf’s scent. He’d been after this one for quite some time. Lyall Lupin’s boy, Remus, though he was not so little anymore, he was a grown man at thirty-five years. Fenrir Greyback curled up his gums to reveal his yellow-stained teeth and let out a low rumbling growl as he watched the man pass by the street, heading towards the Ministry of Magic, and—and…His nostrils flared as he inched forward a little closer. He breathed in Lupin’s scent that was nothing like his father’s, not at all. No, this one was female, and marked. Greyback smirked as he realized the youngest member of the Lupin family had finally claimed a mate, but it was clear the longer the scent lingered she’d not yet been claimed. Whoever Lupin’s mate was, she was exotic—he could smell the young woman’s perfume on Lupin’s jacket lingering about his person. In fact, her scent was so much more exotic, he knew the brand of perfume she used, having recognized the same on a female he’d attacked last week and attempted to coerce her to return. Lupin’s woman smelled entirely different. The mysterious woman consisted of a scent that represented freshly cut timber, like the damp forest after a rainfall; she smelled heavenly, like fresh-scented pine and honey. Her aroma was like a drug to Greyback, he couldn’t get enough, and that was when he knew: what better way to ruin Lupin than to take his woman from him, to take her for himself, in front of the pack?

“Make them all watch,” Greyback growled through his canines, stifling the growing roar in the back of his throat as the man Apparated on the spot, before Greyback could even as much utter a hello to an old friend.

 _No matter_ , he thought, his lips curling into a vicious snarl. _I’ll be seeing you again, boy. Both of you. I’m going to make you watch as I take her_.

* * *

After almost a year of steadily increasingly warm friendship, Nymphadora Tonks sat on the wall, waiting for Remus to join her for coffee and dessert, just as friends, one hand clasping the heel of her black ballet flat. She looked down at her dress she’d bought last minute in one of the Muggle boutiques in downtown London with Ginny Weasley the other day. A vintage 50’s full circle skirt dress. A rich chocolate brown color with textured black and metallic gold woven design. The dress had short sleeves, a flattering scoop neckline that showed off her prominent collarbones, and a triple bodice. Paired with a pair of black flats, her pixie cut its usual vibrant pink for a pop of color with a black sparkly headband in place for some flair, white stud earrings, and a simple brown crossbody, also purchased from a Muggle shop, she briefly wondered if Remus would think the dress was too short. Tonks dipped into her purse for her small compact powder mirror, obsessively checking her makeup for what had to be the twelfth time now. On any other August evening, Tonks would have smiled at the couples filling the café sidewalk in Hogsmeade. She would have seen her future reflected in them, her hand being touched gently by a man who adored her, and a shy smile playing on her pink lips. But not tonight. Tonight, she tugged at the new dress the Muggle girl store assistant had sworn looked so flattering when she’d tried it on. But now, she wondered if Remus would think it was too short. With each tug, the front went a little lower, and so Tonks stopped, grumbling to herself, her wand clutched in her hand as she tried to think of any sort of grooming spell, she could think of to make herself look more presentable. With no time to Apparate to go home to her flat to change, Tonks begrudgingly knew she was just going to have to wing it tonight. She cast a furtive glance around at the cafe close to Honeydukes. These other woman at the tables looked so damn casual, some like Ginny, who was currently on a date with Michael Corner, looked so casual, at ease. _Maybe I should have done that_ , Tonks thought disparagingly. _Show him_ _I’m so at ease with our…friendship, that I can show up just like this, sans makeup, in the set of robes I wore all day. But instead, I’m here, in this._

At least in the fading light, the colors of her outfit weren’t so bold. Tonks just wanted to find a quiet place to hide. There was something about Remus John Lupin that set her heart racing almost a little _too_ bloody fast. With the nail of her thumb in her mouth, she scanned Hogsmeade, biting down harder than she had intended and swallowing the fragment. Cringing, she gave her nail a sharp tap with her knuckle and watched as it grew back with a fresh coat of purple nail polish. A pigeon was coming closer, rotating between pecking at the ground for crumbs and observing her with its head cocked. Tonks let out a bitter laugh, releasing some of the tension she felt. Dating these days was shitty. Just the worst. And tonight, wasn’t even technically a date, she told herself. Though secretly, she wished it was. Tonks was sick of telling men about herself only for them to decide that she was not what they were looking for. If she had to hear “It’s not you, it’s me,” one more time, she thought she would very well puke. “Here you are, oh thank Merlin,” she whispered, breathing an audible sigh of relief as she spotted him.

The Auror thought Remus Lupin tonight was looking especially handsome in a simple dark gray sweater and a pair of khaki pants, worn but well-cared for, and neat. Poor Remus walked with a cane. The other night’s full moon must have really taken a toll. The sight tugged at her heartstrings, more than she cared to admit. He had the fluidity of youth, but he couldn’t control this condition. Not without the Wolfsbane Potion, which he couldn’t afford.

She had seen eighty-year-olds walk better than Remus was right now. His eyes scanned the crowd and Tonks waved in recognition. He rose his eyebrows in what she hoped was a signal of pleasant surprise, and she scurried to hop off the wall to greet him properly, reaching up on her tiptoes and give him a brief, but firm hug, careful to mind his injuries. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the village warmer somehow, Tonks’ future within Hogsmeade’s walls a little less bleak. “I apologize for being late,” he murmured, resting his chin atop her hair.

“It’s fine,” Tonks responded, perhaps a little too quickly, not wanting to relinquish her grip on Remus. She could stay in his embrace forever.

“You look beautiful,” he complimented warmly. “I love the dress.” Remus looked as though he was fighting against something and losing. He opened his mouth to say something, and closed it, seemingly thinking better of it, content to just watch her a minute.

Tonks felt the heat speckle across and color her cheeks. She didn’t bother hiding it. He knew already what he did to her, she could tell that much. _But how to make him see the truth?_ Tonks mused.

“Thanks,” she murmured shyly, earning a little chuckle from Remus as she felt her pink hair briefly flash red in embarrassment before reverting to pink. Remus took the seat across from her with a heavy awkwardness. As Tonks took in his hollow cheekbones, full lips, and too-pale skin, she just wanted to eat him up. There was something so sexy in that vulnerable look of his. His voice as he spoke to her was warm and rich. Her heart beat a little faster than it should have normally allowed, but she wasn’t focusing on his words. As she blushed, his look of bafflement turned into a shy smile.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back. You haven’t truly experienced Hogsmeade until you’ve had this place’s hot chocolate,” he grinned, a slight note of excitement in his voice. Before Tonks could even protest, he heaved himself out of his chair with a slight guttural grunt, his cane tapping noisily as he made his way towards the café counter. He came back with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“Thanks!” Tonks piped up, scooting her chair a little closer to Remus. The hot chocolate was rich as it was dark. It flowed as slowly as cream as she swirled the mug with her hand. Tonks knew the bottom was a mass of sugar crystals that had reformed as it cooled. The drink was nothing more than cream saturated and Tonks didn’t care. She picked up her wand and tapped the tip of her mug, watching carefully as from its tip poured a generous layer of cream on top of her drink. She did the same to Lupin’s, topping off both their beverages with a beautiful zig zag of chocolate sauce.

Lupin was eyeing Tonks in a new light, a way she wasn’t sure what to make of. She said nothing at first, content to sip the drink, allowing the sweet, hot drink to settle on her tongue and warm her throat going down. Then, just to make conversation, as she watched a young couple take a stroll down the road heading towards Honeydukes and Zonko’s, Tonks did not know what possessed her to ask about Sirius, but it sort of slipped out.

“You’d think after almost a year of being with the Order, I’d know a little more about Sirius,” she chuckled, swirling her drink with her spoon. Tonks let out a little sigh, and it did not escape her attentiveness that something in Remus’s kind smile and light brown eyes had dimmed. “He’s still so handsome, isn’t he? Even after all those years locked up in Azkaban.” Remus said nothing as Tonks stood from her chair, gesturing for him to follow her with a curt wave of her arm. The laughter had evaporated from his brown eyes. His customary warmth gone faster than summer rain on the tarmac.

Indeed, even his focus was somewhere on the trees behind Tonks, as if she had become invisible to him, or he couldn’t bear to see her at all. Tonks knew then that by bringing up Sirius, she had crossed some invisible line, offended his sensibilities. She had seen Remus do this to others before, but she had thought their growing bond immune. Now her blood drained and heart hammered erratically as she watched his face. Tonks was never afraid of his anger when it came as fire, for that burnt hot and fast, and was usually over in a few split seconds. But she was deathly afraid of his ice. It coated him like protective permafrost, it had saved him from the torments of his youth and isolation as a werewolf, but now that same method could isolate Remus from his friends. From her. Tonks let out a heavy sigh, reaching up a hand and tucked a stray wisp of pink hair back in place and readjusted her headband. This had been a truly stupid, horrible, and all-around very bad idea to ask him out on a date.

It was pointless to try to reach Remus now. Her well-meant words would bounce off the man as good as hard rain. But she would have to see him again tomorrow, thaw his anger, return that loving spark she loved to his eyes. Tonks was surprised at the bitterness in his voice when he spoke, his tone curt and it trembled slightly. “He always got the women.” The jealousy in his voice was unmistakable.

Tonks felt as though Remus had slapped her. The man was observing her with the gaze of a stranger, that aloof judgement with no strings attached. From up close, Tonks could tell he’d made some opinion of her just now. Her cold fury burnt with dangerous intensity. Remus knew as he met Tonks’s eyes that he had made a grave mistake just now with his comment. He never worried about her frequent fireworks and showers of red-hot sparks; it was these bitterly cold, slow burning rages that threatened to engulf their friendship. Remus let out a tired, defeated sigh and slumped his shoulders, turning away from her so he wouldn’t have to see her hurting. Tonks felt the tension and heard the intensity in Remus’s tone. There was a great deal of emotion behind those few words he just spoke to her now. She knew Remus needed validation of his emotions, not some solution or apology from her in the moment.

 _We can take our lives in a different direction_ , her inner conscience guided her. For once, it decided to say something positive. _Good!_ Tonks took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling her nerves. All the reasons not to do what she was about to came flooding in, as if her body chemistry just sent them a blanket invitation. She felt the soft panic that would either grow or fade depending on her next move. It would fade if she backed away, but then she would have to do this all again tomorrow, and no time like the present. Remus looked like he was about to break down and leave her be, and that she could simply not allow. Not when she’d dressed up for this date, damn it.

 _You need to say it, and fast! Go on, hurry up, he’s leaving!_ A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of her right eye; her mouth formed a rigid grimace. With her arms folded tightly across her chest, she tapped her foot furiously and all the while glowered at Remus Lupin, the man who had secretly held her heart for the last eight months of their growing friendship. She secretly rejoiced the fact Dumbledore paired them together on this mission for the duration of the summer, into the fall. “Wait!” she pleaded desperately, catching the edge of his arm and yanking him back with more force than she thought possible of her. “Don’t leave. Stay,” she begged. “I—I didn’t mean to upset you, I just…everything is—”

His face was set, rigid, and tense. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Why? It’s clear to me that you fancy Sirius,” he spat bitterly, his best friend’s name sounding like it were poison that had settled on his tongue. “I can see it. You do not need to justify yourself to me,” Remus snarled bitterly. “I can see it plainly for myself. It’s fine.”

 _Oh, you blind, bloody fool_. Tonks fought back the urge to roll her eyes. “Oh, yes I do!” she shouted. “You are _way_ off base, it’s not even funny, my friend. So, let me explain to you a few things. Well, for starters, you’re wrong, Remus John Lupin!” she huffed in frustration, stomping her foot in agitation, her hands on her hips.

“Am I?” Remus challenged boldly, not seeming to want to hear her out. “I think I’m seeing this very clearly for the first time!”

“Yes, you are!” she retorted hotly, instinctively reaching for his hand as she sensed him wanting to pull away again. _Here it goes_. “I’m bad at love. But you can’t blame me for trying, can you? You’d know perfectly well who I’ve fallen for if you weren’t so bloody busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice, Remus Lupin, you—you insufferable moron,” she snarled, closing the gap of space between them, her face inches from his, the tips of their noses practically touching. Remus was close enough for her to kiss him. She was briefly tempted but fought it. There were other things on her mind right now, like making him see the light. He just had to see this!

Remus faltered and took a slight, fumbling step backward. Words left him. He stared into those piercing gray eyes burning with anger, and his heart fell silent. Tonks’ rage seemed to dissipate and deflate, and her shoulders slumped forward slightly in defeat as she nervously reached up and tucked a stray wisp of her pink hair back behind her black headband. Lupin wanted desperately to say something, but he couldn’t will his lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as Tonks turned away sharply to avoid looking Remus in the eyes, so he wouldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes, threatening to spill over if she couldn’t get her emotions under control. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. She refused.

Poor Remus’s mind was blank and his eyes wide as he stared at Tonks in horror and elation. She felt the same way that he did! She was in love with him, as he was with her. He searched his mind for something reasonable to say, but to his surprise, his heart answered for him instead. “I love you. More…more than anything,” he said. "I think I have for a while now, but...didn't want to admit. What could you possibly see in someone like me, a...a monster?"

The moment he realized he misinterpreted her actions, her words, her expressions for so many months... as if Tonks been speaking a language Remus couldn't understand... that moment her words stopped was the moment her heart broke... yet it was a good breaking... the type that leads to healing and new ways onward; sometimes, the loss of words says more. He knew she didn’t love him back, but he couldn’t resist. He leaned in a little closer, their foreheads touching. Dear god, he couldn’t fight against the thoughts that were going through him. Her very smell was flooding his senses now and he didn’t want to fight it anymore, his own eternal soul be damned.

“I'm going to stop you right there. You are no monster, Remus. You are a man, and it's time you started seeing yourself as such. Why do you like me, Remus?” Tonks whispered, her hands tracing the scars on his hand, connecting them all with invisible lines like a dot-to-dot. She gazed up at him with those hauntingly serene eyes, and suddenly, he was drowning in her eyes, losing himself in them forever. “I need to know, so tell me, please.”

“How could I not?” came Remus’s reply, cupping her cheek so her beautiful eyes met his own. He took the opportunity to study her eyes. The first couple days, he'd labeled them "gray." If he was feeling particularly poetic, he called them "silver." Neither word did them justice. They were so solid, so bright, the exact lustrous color of a polished shard of metal. If you looked closer, like he was just now, you'd see the swirls of glittering onyx black and tinges of blue at the edges. They weren't monochrome or boring. That had simply been his terrible judgement. They were beautiful. He couldn’t stop himself from commenting on them. “Your eyes…they’re like smoke, Dora. Gray and full of heat. I’ve never seen eyes like yours.”

“Hate to break it to you, Shakespeare, but smoke isn’t full of heat, it’s an effect of heat,” Tonks corrected, yet it was hard to take his tone seriously after what had just transpired between the two of them here and now. She frowned. “But don’t try to change the subject!” she growled, her hands on her hips. “We were talking…”

“That works too.” Remus’s crooked smirk switched to a small smile as his grip on Tonks’ waist tightened, coming up to grip almost painfully tight. “They always get darker and grayer when you’re angry,” he teased, reaching up a hand and tucking a strand of her hair back into place, chuckling a little at her stunned reaction.

“Like you would notice.”

“Like I wouldn’t,” Remus retorted. She frowned at his answer and looked away. Remus dropped his hand from her cheek and fiddled with a loose string on his sweater sleeve instead, not sure what to do with his hands, though the inner beast within was urging his hands to explore. He loved the fading sunset behind her eyes, the moonlight that danced through her hair, the sadness nestled in the creases of her milky white palms. Remus loved all of Tonks, not just the parts that made sense, not just the parts she’d shown him during their year of increasingly warm friendship. He loved the parts of her he did not yet understand, the parts that weighed on her shoulders, the parts only he noticed when he stole glances at Tonks during the silence. “How could I not like you?” Remus placed his arms around her, and she leaned in closer to him. The softness and gentle touch of his arm against her neck made her back tingle through her dress.

They did not speak, because in their own way, they were already communicating so much. There is so much in Remus’s silence, so much he just won't say. Tonks could see by his expression there was a lot going on in his head, but if she asked, he just said he was thinking of how pretty she was. _Got to give the man credit, he's smoother than silk._ He flashed Tonks the smile that had her tied up tighter than a wizard’s money in Gringotts, but unlike a vault, isn't claustrophobic at all. Tonks knew that she was always safe with him, even if he did keep secrets. Loving him did not give Tonks the right to know every pain and doubt, to rummage through the wreckage of his head. Some scars are invisible, she knew he carried his share.

Tonks slipped her left hand into his and they wound through the village of Hogsmeade, just two lovers, connected. Tonks moved her head closer to Lupin. He stood frozen, both from fear and exhilaration. She leaned in, so her forehead rested against Remus’s. They closed their eyes, content to just bask in the newfound moment. “Thank you,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “For everything this past year. It means so much to me.”

“For what?” Remus replied, his voice low and husky, and heavy with desire for the young, intelligent, funny, beautiful witch with the bright pink hair that had stolen his heart before he’d even known it was gone. “I’ve done nothing, Dora. I’m just…me.”

“For being you.” Her voice wavered, exhilarated from the tension between them. She reached up and intertwined their fingers together. He startled a little at the sudden jolt of electricity that seemed to pass through his body, but he liked the warmth it gave off, that Nymphadora gave off. “You accepted me for who I am, not for who you wanted me to be.” She gestured to her hair and scrunched her nose in disgust. “So many times, for work I’ve had to hide who I really am. The hair, or if it’s an Auror mission, my appearance. I could never truly be myself around anyone before. You never once pestered me to change my looks or—or told me I wasn’t good enough. Or pretty enough for you. So, thank you, Remus. Truly.” At her last comment, her voice cracked and broke.

It broke his heart, to see her this way. “I love you for who you are. I just…” Remus hesitated. “I love you for who you are. I just want you to be happy, and why you could want me?” he whispered into the shell of her ear, and was given virtually no time to react as Tonks had to reach up on her tiptoes to gently lean in and kiss his warm lips. They pulled apart, taking shaky, shallow breaths.

“How could I not?” echoed Tonks, a wry smile on her lips.

A beat. A pause. For a second, Tonks wondered if she made a mistake. Unable to contain himself anymore, Lupin caught Tonks’s head between his hands and pulled her close for a fiery passionate kiss. Her hands snaked their way up his body around it, feeling each crevasse, each line along his perfect physique underneath his black sweater. All of this was very real. The tiny moan he heard her give out was real, and this only made Lupin want more of her.

He kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. When she kissed him, Remus’s brain lit on fire and the warmth spread throughout his entire body. After that, Lupin was addicted. He couldn't bear not to be with her, and he could barely breathe when she was around. Those kisses were his salvation and his torment. He lived for them and he would die with the memory of them on his lips. Remus dedicated his life to being with her from the moment of that first kiss, for he knew that if he lost her, he would lose himself. She was the half that made him whole. Their first kiss obliterated every thought. For the first time in forever Remus’s mind was locked into the present. The worries of the day evaporated like a summer shower onto hot pavement. His usual mode of hurrying from one thing to the next was suspended, he had no wish for the kiss to end. Drunk on endorphins his only desire was to touch her, to move his hands under her smooth summer layers and feel her perfect softness.

In moments the soft caress has become firmer, he savored her lips and the quickening of her breath that matched his own.

A kiss like this was a beginning, a promise of much more to come.


	6. That Pulling Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly shorter chapter, but things with Fenrir will definitely pick up in the next chapter ahead! *Insert evil laughter here* Not sure what the word for this is. Slight smut warning ahead? Lol, Steamy? Whatever, it is what it is. Anyways, this story is far from done, so for those who are following, stay tuned! I'm fairly diligent about continuing all of my stories on here until they're finished. I plan to cover a few missing HBP moments and leading up to DH events. :)

Tonks didn’t know how it had happened exactly. They hadn’t hesitated in Apparating back to her flat, and before she could even fit the damned key through the door, she was locked in another kiss.

Their lips fitted perfectly-- as if they were meant for each other. Moving against each other, feeling each other. Remus grabbed the back of Tonks’ neck, growling in the kiss as she whimpered in pleasure. Through the sunset streaming in through her window, her pale skin was amber in the twilight. The orange glow flooded in through the unguarded window, yet without a light on in this place, Remus knew they were quite safe from prying eyes.

“Good,” he murmured, wrapping his hands around her waist from behind, leaving a gentle trail of kisses down her neck that left sparks in their wake. He pulled back, hesitant. What they were doing was wrong, but she had, for lack of a better word, bewitched and ensnared him. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, pained.

She smirked. “Do I _look_ unsure, Lupin?” she teased. Tonks wore black lace undergarments, so soft over her pale skin, her bright pink hair vibrant, though it was currently flickering back and forth between red out of embarrassment and desire for Lupin to its usual pink. Finally, she furrowed her brow in concentration, forcing it to remain its usual pink hue. “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly.

“I think it’s cute,” Remus grinned, pulling her close, cutting off the gap of space between them. Her hand alit on his face, moving down past his collarbone. Already, his brain was on fire, she was his angel, his angel with the fingertips of flame. Her fingertips were electric, they had to be, for whenever she touched his skin, it tingled in a frenzy of static. As her hands moved over his bare skin as he struggled to unbutton his shirt, fumbling it slightly with shaking fingers, he tossed it into a heap in the corner of her living room, looking disgusted. Without waiting for her to ask what he was doing, he gingerly shoved her backwards slightly, not violently so, but hard enough to intend his message as he forced her to lay on her back on their sofa. “Leave it,” he murmured, gently slapping her hand away, noticing where she was looking, breaking apart from their kiss as she moved to unhook her bra. “I’ll take care of it.”

She shuddered as his hands moved over her skin, her body undergoing a transitory paralysis, her mind unable to process the pleasure so fast. His head moved around to her left ear, whispering what was coming next. Suddenly, Tonks’ body was off pause mode and she pulled back for a kiss that was both soft and hard, gentle but passionate. Both moved in an intoxicated dance of limbs, never making the same exact moves twice, not knowing what to do.

But they would figure it out along the way, together, as lovers.

Lupin pulled up to try to kiss. “No,” she urged desperately, raising a trembling finger to his lips, stopping him from taking another move. “Not yet,” Tonks teased. She pushed him off her, shoving him hard onto the couch’s cushions. Straddling his hips, she frowned as he moved to sit up, but she pushed him back down onto. “No.”

“Dora,” he started to say, but she cut him off by kissing his lips. He kissed her back, his hands coming up to her neck and entangling in her hair. Tonks pulled away, grabbing his hands gently and placing them back down by his sides. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“No touching,” she whispered into the shell of his ear, smirking.

“That’s not fair,” he sulked, suddenly looking put off and hurt.

“Shut up.” Tonks brought her finger up to his lips and leaned down to kiss him again. It was a slow process, but she wanted to enjoy it, but most of all, she wanted Remus to enjoy the experience.

She stopped kissing his lips and moved to his jawline, neck, and collarbone. Kissing every inch, Tonks could feel the struggle he was undergoing to keep his hands down. Grinning, she placed soft butterfly kisses down his chest and abs, enjoying hearing him squirm.

“Dora,” he whispered her name, suddenly sounding urgent. She could hear and practically feel Lupin’s desperation to use his hands and the willpower it was taking him not to. She sat up, still straddling him and gently took his hands in hers, placing them on her hips. He groaned as she shifted against his lap, his face flushing.

“Your turn, Rem,” she whispered into his ear, biting his lobe. His hands instantly flipped her over violently, not caring that she cried out. He wasted no time in unhooking her bra, burying his head into the crook of her neck as his hands roved and explored every inch of her. Their breathing then became rough and fast, passionate, loving.

“You’re irresistible,” he murmured while kissing her chest.

The night they spent together was truly magical. He took all of her this time, savoring every second. Remus knew in these moments, that Tonks loved him with her eyes as much as her body, their souls mingling in the quiet moments between the action and the stillness.

The cool apartment already felt warm beneath the blanket they’d taken cover under. It was hard for Lupin to hold back, to make their shared moment last. Wasn’t that always th way, so caught between the intoxication of the climax and extending a moment neither wanted to end? But Merlin, he would try until his dying breath.


	7. Kidnapped

Though it was still silent, like the pre-dawn always was, in that darkness devoid of most life, there came a musky scent tinctured with rancid breath. Fenrir was awake as always, trying to figure out how to live through his next day in the wizarding world without breaking his back or blowing his cover when he caught the delectable scent. The female’s. Lyall Lupin’s boy’s woman, the woman with the pink hair who he had learned from Alecto Carrow, was none other than Nymphadora Tonks, Bellatrix Lestrange’s cousin, which would make this all the better. He glanced towards his other compatriots and a wolfish grin crept over his features. There were three others like him. It was odd. The lot of them were playing cards at the makeshift table that had been set up, like they all still had half-human minds—so much for being unable to curb their killer instincts. The other two were not like Fenrir. Then the largest werewolf spoke up, his nostrils flaring.

“We don’t want the man yet, we want the woman. Far more tender,” Fenrir Greyback snarled through clenched teeth as he felt his hackles raise. “We played cards for her. I won. So, you see, the girl is mine.”

At his words, a drool of saliva rolled thickly from his rubbery lips and he took a step forwards, hidden in the shadows as the young woman passed. There was no negotiating with devils such as the likes of him.

The others in his group fell silent as Fenrir watched the Auror with the bright pink hair from the shadows. He’d known the girl and the werewolf, Lupin’s boy, had been tailing their operation for a long time.

But now, it was time to up the stakes. Time to play a little game…

Fenrir watched the young woman from behind a dark oak tree, the branches swaying in the wind. He could briefly see her wand holstered onto her left leg, allowing the witch ample access to her weapon, but he was much faster. His expression was of one being forced to endure an unpleasant odor. His gaze was unwavering and unabashed.

His yellowing eyes did not travel up to the woman’s pale face or down to her black combat boots, but they followed her as if really focusing on something a couple of feet further away instead. Perhaps it was his introspective nature that had led him to be locked in thought as he observed his new target, it was hard for Fenrir to know for sure.

But he made no gesture of recognition, no raised hand or stiff grin.

The girl quickened her pace through the woods and almost melted into the trees, and that’s when Fenrir decided to introduce himself.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice gruffer than her would have liked. The young woman turned; her mouth slightly agape in shock. She reached for her wand, but before she could, he bolted.

“Shit!” she swore underneath her breath, seeing no other choice but to run for it. She wished she’d thought to bring a broomstick, anything.

Remus was back at Grimmauld Place with Sirius, no time to conjure a Patronus to send a message. She was on her own with this one. Merlin help me, Tonks pleaded. Her feet slipped outwards on the wet autumn leaves as she rounded the corner, the cold evening air shocking her throat and lungs as she inhaled deeper, faster. With each footfall, a jarring pain shot up ankle, to knee, ankle to knee, several more times.

Perhaps jumping that boulder onto the forest floor wasn’t so smart.

Her heart beat frantically, all or nothing. Fail, and her whole body would pay the price, run and the damage would be mostly limited to her shins and knees. Tonks ran for her life. She could hear Fenrir and his pack panting with the effort from three hundred yards behind, that’s how damn noisy the wolves were. Conditioning from her years of Auror training on the streets was tough for even these guys to beat.

Her breathing came in small spurts, hot and nervous. At her sides, pale fingers curled into sweaty fists, swinging forward as if it would make her run faster. Behind her, Tonks could hear the baying howls of Fenrir, calling to his companions. In return, his summons had been acknowledged. “Shit, shit, shit!” she swore violently through gritted teeth. They were close now, and if she risked Apparating, they would undoubtedly latch onto her before she could so much as make her escape. The jeering laughter of her enemies reached her eardrums.

Mud smeared her sweaty face as sweat dripped from her hair.

“Please, for the love of Merlin, let me live!” Tonks cried aloud, throwing herself forward with even greater abandon. Her lungs and heart were pumping, but the air didn’t seem to be enough as she sprinted forward, panic trembling in her exhausted limbs and mind.

Tonks kept running, but she knew by the sound of another one of Fenrir’s ear-piercing howls that her time was now up. She’d been compromised and caught. Damn me and my carelessness! Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something sharp and huge coming towards her. She tried to jump out of the way, but it was much too late for that.

Tonks screamed, giving away her position to the others, but the pain was unbearable. She collapsed to the ground, clutching at her ribcage as something warm and sticky, garish in its crimson red leaked out.

_Blood_ , she thought wildly. _My own. Oh, shit. Remus is going to hate me for this. Maybe it would be better if they just killed me now. Just do it, let me lay here and bleed out. It’ll be good for me. Anything but this_.

As she laid there, she saw an image of her family. Of her father, mother, only this time, Remus was there too. Was this a vision of her future? Her vision clouded, coming to her in peaks and lulls slowly.

Tonks’s eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy; then the Auror saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space her heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside fading pleas for help amid the sound of low murmurings, and what sounded like someone whimpering.

Feeling in her body drained away until finally all was black.

The kidnapping was over in a second. One minute the girl had been there, staring at something, at what, even Fenrir didn’t know, nor did he give a damn. What mattered now was they had the girl, at long last.

No one saw a thing, no one heard her muffled scream or the howling of his pack as the yelped at the moon in victory of their latest prize.

Her kidnappers knew her quite well, having studied her movements and the Dark Lord’s plants at the Ministry of Magic told Fenrir everything he needed to know about Bellatrix Lestrange’s little cousin.

Fenrir wasted no time in hoisting the unconscious Auror over his shoulder. He was momentarily surprised by how lightweight she was.

_She needs feeding up_ , he thought darkly, and a voice surprised him.

“Stop,” came the Dark Lord’s cold, calculating voice, devoid of emotion. Fenrir was not surprised when the man himself Apparated precisely only a few feet in front of the triumphant werewolf.

Fenrir, never one to disobey his master, did as he was told.

“What is this?” asked the Dark Lord, his brow furrowed. “I see you’ve managed to capture yourself yet another pretty little plaything,” he complimented, lifting the young woman’s chin, cupping it to study her features. He clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. “I know this one.”

“Bellatrix Lestrange’s cousin,” growled Fenrir, baring his canines.

“The one who’s fallen in love with the werewolf, the beast,” mocked Lord Voldemort, his red eyes narrowing until they were mere slits. Clearly, it did not escape his attention how Fenrir bristled at the insult, his chest puffing out just slightly, but Greyback knew better than to retort. “It is people like this one who are damaging the pureblood lineage of our ancestors and forefathers. We must…cut away the parts of the family tree that threaten to impede the rest, must we not?”

To that, Fenrir could only nod. “This one’s the girlfriend of Lyall Lupin’s son, Remus,” he offered, hoping to placate the Dark Lord.

Fenrir hated these so-called last minute ‘meetings,’ when, the Dark Lord was free to appear at will, whenever he pleased, never mind that was Greyback’s encampment, _his_ grounds. The Dark Lord did as he liked and anybody who questioned the lord’s authority did not get another chance. He knew better than to demand the Dark Lord only turn up at his camps when Fenrir deemed it convenient. No way.

To that, Lord Voldemort frowned, suddenly looking thoughtful.

“Do with the girl what you will,” he said, his voice coming out as almost a drawl. Dare Fenrir think it, but he sounded…almost bored. “Kill her, feast on her flesh, keep her locked up for a plaything, I don’t care,” he said, hearing his voice rise an octave as he paced the forest floor. “But should you fail me again, you almost got caught luring that young child into your midst.” He frowned as he stared at the pink-haired woman in Fenrir’s arms. “This woman is a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She is quite well recognized, and for that, you have done well, but I warn you: If you are captured or killed by Aurors, it would jeopardize everything we have worked for up to this point. You allow yourself to be spotted again,” he snarled, “and I can personally guarantee you a fate worse than death itself. You’ll be in so much pain, you’ll practically be on your knees, begging me to end your suffering.”

Fenrir swallowed nervously, hoping his eyes didn’t betray his fear.

The werewolf let out a heavy sigh as the Dark Lord, seeing no further point he needed to make, turned on his heel and vanished without another word to the werewolf, and he pushed his face closer, his mind ordering his body to fall in line. Retreat would be a disaster, a show of weakness an inlet for the Dark Lord or the Aurors to surge through.

Nothing in his face betrayed his fear, it was a mask of defiance and surety, that's why he was the leader of his clan, the Alpha. The fear would need an out of course, he wasn't going the way of the others who had foolishly allowed themselves to be either caught and sent to Azkaban, or killed in battle trying to defend themselves, but there was a time and a place and this sure as hell wasn't it. They had her, at last.

“Time to play, sweet thing,” Fenrir murmured lowly, leaning down to whisper into the shell of the young woman’s ear. She was still knocked out, but not for much longer. Once she awoke, the game could begin.

Fenrir glanced down at the unconscious woman, who he had now shifted to rest in his arms. There was a tiny sliver of him that felt sorry for what he was, the way he behaved. He knew he shouldn’t kill all these children, or especially the young women, but each one was always so deliciously sweet. Making their blood run until their flesh was ghostly and cold always filled him with such exquisite pleasure.

He selected his victims just like others picked out their favorite chocolate from Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, with careful precision.

“You’re my new favorite, pet,” he crooned, reaching down and licked her cheek. A wolf’s way of showing affection. “Just you wait. You’ll see.”

The further Fenrir Greyback traveled into the forest, into the dark, the more the light burned him. The longer he lived without it bringing color to his world, the more he grew to love blackness. Perhaps there was a time once when he didn’t have to necessarily become the beast, but he was assuredly one now, ever since the bite that changed his life.

From this dark pit, this terrible pit where not an ounce of light shined, he called for others like him to follow his lead into darkness.

Fenrir had no wish to be lonely. He wanted to be the master of this dark place, the one who possessed all the power and control of his clan. But how could he have either if there was no one to be his partner in pain and cruelty? He pondered this thought and a truly wicked idea came to his mind just then, as he glanced down at her.

She would be his mate once he had taken care of Lupin, and then once that miserable excuse of a creature was dead, Fenrir would take her. He would make her his queen, and the reward for her following him was to learn the joy of inflicting pain, the love of power and the ability to remain indifferent as the others around them suffered for it.

This woman in his arms was meant to save herself. He could see that. Fenrir could help her with that. He could bite her and put the wand in her hand and remove the conscience from her mind, that nagging, pulling feeling that dared to tell you when something was right or not.

Think of how strong she would be with no voice telling her not to kill, not to harm, and why should she listen? Fenrir had seen this one fight.

She was quite skilled, this much the werewolf knew, to take on Anton Dolohov alone and come out of that fight with barely a scratch on her.

This woman—Nymphadora Tonks—could be a queen, mighty, crushing her enemies underneath her foot. There was no right or wrong, only what she could and could not do. The woman was born to be a beast like him. She would just need to come closer to Fenrir to see.

To let him close the door behind them…


	8. To Accept Your Fate

Her head throbbed. The pain felt like someone had taken a knife to her skull. She leaned her head back against a wall. Squeezing her eyes shut, Tonks willed the pain to go away. The rest of the world became detached, all she could concentrate on was the pain rooted deep in her head. She could barely hear the people chattering around him. All she felt, all she knew was the pain of that moment. Tonks woke as if it were an emergency, as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing. Her heart beat fast and there was a buzzing in her brain and together they made her panicked. Something she admittedly could not afford, given her situation. She sat up, wincing at the throbbing in the back of her skull, black spots dancing in front of her vision, and blearily tried to focus her gaze a few feet in front.

The prison cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget their own name in there. The isolation was total, and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind. It was all an inmate could do to feel the cool walls, but even they were smooth.

Surrounded by four white walls, there was nothing else to do but stare at them. To look at the paint that had started to chip off as time passed or gouged by other prisoners - anything to pass time, slowly going mad, theorizing absurd meanings from the wall's blank stare.

The air inside this place was different, and for a moment, Tonks was unable to put her finger on why. Then it occurred to her. The smell of sweat was gone, save for the sounds she made, there was no sound of other people except for her and the monster staring her in the face, currently. Nothing but the eerie song of silence. But that wasn't the worst of it. The place was just walls, walls and a giant empty cell, a cage like one would keep a vicious dog locked up in.

Here, Tonks could feel the icy grip of Death clutching onto her.

"Damn," she whispered, horrified, and immediately cursing herself for not waiting. She should have waited for Remus, but no, she had to just follow this lead on her own, and now she was well and truly trapped with him. The moments passed as if she were hungover from too much Fire Whiskey, but not from drinking, but from the nightmare that was currently staring her in the face that demanded a solution, and she saw with no small measure of dismay that her wand had been unceremoniously snapped in two and tossed at her feet.

A surprisingly gentle nude to her rib cage caused her to jolt backwards, fully awake to see Fenrir Greyback's leering face at her.

"Hello, doll face," he crooned, and she knew by the tone of his voice that she was in serious trouble. "Glad to see you're awake."

"How long was I out?" Tonks whispered, hating how hoarse and weak her voice sounded, and even more so that she was daring to showcase her fear in front of this beast that dared to call itself a man.

"Few hours. I've been waiting for you to wake up," he said, no trace of malice in his voice, but Tonks knew that was how he lured members of his coven in. He grinned at his captive wolfishly, revealing bright pink gums and sharp, pointed canines. "Now that you're awake, life's _so_ much more fun. I've been waiting for you to wake up so we can play a little game," he grinned. He poked her side, causing her to recoil against the wall of this cage in disgust. "I just had to wake you up because you weren't listening, sweet thing."

Fenrir Greyback poked her side again. How would he know that if she hadn't said anything? She'd been asleep, for Merlin's sake! Tonks guessed her eyes being closed sort of had given the Auror away. "Now I have to tell you everything again, love," he growled, crossing his legs and straddling the chair he was sitting in backwards, his head resting in his hands. He sat himself even closer towards her.

"Don't call me that!" Tonks snarled, hoping her eyes didn't betray her. Fenrir saw that her gaze continuously flitted towards the pieces of her broken wand and up towards the cell door. "You're a beast!"

Fenrir snorted, unfazed by her outburst. "Says the woman who is dating one of our kind. Oh, yes," he added, smiling wickedly at the dawning look of horror in growing in the Order member's eyes. "I know all your little…partnership with Lyall Lupin's boy, Remus."

_Remus_ , she thought, a pang of guilt and fear piercing her heart.

"You really think that one can save you, girl?" Greyback taunted, reaching up a hand with disgustingly overly long fingernails and brushing a wisp of her pink bangs out of her eyes. "I don't think so."

He swept her bangs out of her eyes again and furrowed his brow in thought. Before Tonks could so much as sit up straighter, he seized her by the scruff of her shirt and shoved her up against the rough stone wall of whatever shithole of a prison cell he'd placed her in.

Tonks's insides went cold. She knew what was about to happen to her, and her wand was broken. No way to send a Patronus to call for help or defend herself. Adrenaline flooded her system. It pumped and beat like it was trying to escape. She thought for sure her heart was going to explode, and her eyes were wide with fear. Her body either wanted to run fast for the safety of the outside world, wherever here was, or to any object she could find and enchant the bloody thing into a Portkey and get the hell out of here, but then there was the matter of her broken wand. Instead, she remained where she was, stock still and frozen, unable to move due to the weight of Fenrir's clawed hand clutching her shoulder, preventing her escaping. Let's face it, there was only one thing she could do: pray the werewolf didn't kill her before help arrived to get her.

Tonks froze as he began to remove her black leather jacket. "No," she hissed, pushing back against his chest. He swiveled his head back and moved to meet her eyes and let out a short, bark-like laugh.

"Don't need you fighting me on this, kid. That just complicates things." Noticing her gray eyes darkening, he let out a low warning growl from the back of his throat. "You're just a bit of rough from the gutter, girl. There is no Prince Charming coming to save you. You think Lupin's going to come for you? He won't. Welcome to your life, witch," here the werewolf spat the word as if it were poison on his tongue. "One-night stands, lonely regrets. It's what a girl like you is made for," he whisper-hissed through gritted teeth.

The thoughts are accelerating inside her head. Tonks wanted them to slow so she can breathe but they wouldn't. Her breaths come in gasps and the Auror felt like she was going to black out if the wolf so much as took one more step in her general direction. Her heart was hammering inside her chest like it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin. The room spun and she felt the strength in her legs give out, falling to the floor, scooting back as far away from Greyback as she could possibly manage, trying to make everything slow to something her brain and body could cope with. Tonks felt so sick. She wanted to call for help but her wand… it's too far away, it's too far away. Even if she did know, she wouldn't know who to call, who to send to come get her. She knew she didn't want Lupin to see her like this. Furthermore, did he even know that she was gone? Probably not. Blackness crept and swirled into the front of her vision... creeping blackness... Tonks let out a low whimper and curled up into a corner, her knees huddled against her chest, anything she could think of to defend herself from whatever was about to happen.

_That smug slippery shit, he destroyed my wand_ , she thought darkly. If only it were still intact, she could have blasted this place to smithereens with one solid Bombarda Jinx and Apparated, no problem. Greyback and the rest of his clan would have been apprehended. Moody and Kingsley and the others would come.

Someone, Remus, Mad Eye, Sirius…wherever you are, please come soon, she thought desperately, biting her lip hard enough that it started bleeding. She glanced up at Greyback, who was regarding his newest plaything with something akin to amusement in his eyes.

"You know what," he growled, sounding thoughtful, and just that alone was enough to render Tonks' blood in her veins to ice. Whenever Greyback started thinking and getting ideas, that was a very bad sign indeed. "I don't think I will take you. _Yet_ ," he added darkly for emphasis. "What's the fun in taking a queen if no one's around to watch? I think I'll go send a little message to your mutant boyfriend, make _him_ watch as I take you for myself," he snarled.

"NO!" she begged, not sure where her sudden outburst was coming from. "Not that," she pleaded desperately. "Please…"

"Oh, yes," he grinned happily, true delight sparking in his eyes now. "The man's made the grave mistake of trying to live among _your_ kind," he spat, disgusted, crinkling his nose in disgust. "He will never be normal, no matter how much he wishes that he were. It seems only fitting such an unforgivable act be punished accordingly, wouldn't you say, dearie? And what better way to do that," here he closed off the gap of space between the two of them, cupping her chin in his clawed hand and tilting her head upward so she met his gaze, "than to take away the one thing that he loves the most?"

Fenrir's lips curled into a sneer as he watched the young woman's haunting gray eyes freeze over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. Oh, she was in there, he knew it, but his words made her freeze, and watching this was like watching the Auror take a huge step back from life, and he liked it.

He wanted to reach in and tell her it wasn't hopeless, that she would see how much better life was with him and his clan, but Greyback knew that the pink-haired woman would not believe him.

The werewolf always knew Bellatrix Lestrange's niece had pain inside, but now it was visible on her face, and for just a split second, he wished it would go away, and he wanted to be the one to take it from her. Fenrir knew that was a selfish want, people have a right to their pain, even the witches and wizards he hated so very much.

They never asked for it. It just arrives like the gift you never wanted. Like the gift he had given Remus John Lupin all those years ago, and the bastard was incredibly grateful. He had given him the gift of a better life, to support his cause, to rally the rest of the wolves against wizard kind, they who had made his peoples' lives a living hell by shunning Fenrir and his kind, instigating werewolf legislation laws every few months, making it increasingly difficult for them to get decent jobs and support their families, and most when they learned of his 'affliction' could barely speak to him, and for Lupin to have rejected the gift of being among others who were like him, who shared in his pain, was an unforgiveable act of treason that needed punishing, and what better way to do that than to take his woman? Greyback was jolted out of his thoughts as the young woman let out a tiny yelp, clutching at her ribcage and staring at the blood staining her palms crimson. Searing fiery bursts pulsated around the wound, intensifying with each dragging step, jarring and brutal. With each step the pain amplified, the bloody muscle quivered, her consciousness ebbed. Black mists swirled at the edges of her mind drawing her into sweet oblivion. "Ah," he added, unable to stop his grin from forming as she looked at him in horror. "No need to worry, pet. That's just a little…incident. One of my boys a little earlier got a little rough in handling you, but he's been dealt with. Don't fret, lovely. When _I_ bite you later, you'll feel it."

The pain from her broken ribs and scratches commanded Tonks' attention. It did not sit quietly in the background like garish wallpaper, it cowed her brain into meek submission, demanding a solution she could not provide, given her current situation. She used to think that the intermittent pains were the worst because they were chaotic and random. But now, these were constant, and she knew this was far more debilitating. Without a break in the pain, she could not formulate a thought on how to devise a plan to get out.

Fenrir let out a weary sigh. "We're just not getting through to you anymore, are we, pet?" He said, kicking her hard in the side with the heel of his pointed boot, the broken ribs there signing in agony and Tonks could barely lift her head to meet the monster's gaze before slumping again, her energy drained by the fever that was slowly taking hold of her and the infection from the scratches settling into the wounds at her right side. "Guess I'll have to go call him now, won't I?" Turning towards a fellow wolf, he barked orders. "Chain this one. We need to plan something _different_ with her."

Tonks knew she would faint whenever her stomach would give out. It felt like her innards were being replaced by some strange black hole. Then nausea crept from her abdomen to her head, and the world went black, but she fought back the urge and resisted it. She had to stay awake. _Remus, wherever you are, please come soon_.

The cold look reflected in Fenrir Greyback's face gave her shudders as the wolf risked one last glance over his shoulder at his newest captive. His hands were tightly closed around the broken pieces of her wand. Tonks frowned. No doubt he intended to use the fragments in whatever message he was about to send to the Order, taunting them. Everyone knew what her wand looked like.

He seemed to have no sense of humanity. His hardened heart was made of stone, the way he had brutally kidnapped her, not to mention all the innocent young children he bit at a young age, Remus among them all those years ago. Tonks would never forget the evil glint in Fenrir Greyback's beady black eyes. She looked into his eyes, but it was like nothing was there to behold. An endless depth of ink, sorrow, and pain. Tonks could not see whites of his eyes nor the vessels that flowed through them. They were depths of Tartarus holding a thousand souls yet there were none to be seen.

The murderer standing before her smelled of blood. Of danger. And she had no way out of this mess unless help came for her.

"Remus," she whispered, her knuckles white with the effort to steady herself as she clutched onto the bars of this cage's door.

_Please come. Hurry_ , she begged, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against the bars, hoping that, somehow, he could hear her.

The dread crept over Tonks like an icy chill, numbing her brain.

In this frozen state her mind offered her only one thought.

She was going to die if help didn't come for her soon. If Greyback came back for her and the other Order members still hadn't arrived by then, she knew what she had to do in order to escape this hell.

"Merlin forgive me," she whispered. But no one listened to her.

She was on her own.


	9. Seriously, Sirius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in updating! Real life got incredibly busy for a few days, but I hope to post a few more chapters this weekend! I'm still thinking of where I want to take this story, and sometimes I'll have an entire chapter written out before I decided it's not quite what I'm looking for and then I scrap it and start over. I've got the next two chapters planned out at least, and hope to post them soon.

"…That smug son of a bitch, this is all Greyback's fault!" he bellowed, throwing an empty Fire Whisky bottle across the room, a cry of outrage upon his lips. He didn't care, he felt nothing as he watched the bottle shatter into several fragments and scatter across the room. In his angered haze, he couldn't tell if anyone heard.

He didn't care anymore. _Let them hear me_ , he thought angrily.

Remus felt the dread creep over his spine like a spider leaving a careful trail of silk. He never should have let her out of his sight. Greyback's message rang in his ears, the visions of the pieces of her broken wand dancing in his mind, refusing to part from his thoughts.

"That might be the first time I've ever seen you lose control over a woman, Remus. Don't worry about Nymphadora, old friend. We'll get her back, Moony," came Sirius's voice from the doorway. Lupin didn't even have to glance up to know it was Padfoot. He was standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. His voice was unusually quiet and somber, not like him at all.

"How do you know?" He could hear his voice cracking and breaking as he wavered on the last word. He buried his face in his hands and tried not to look around at the bedroom, tattered and ruined beyond anything he could have ever done as a werewolf.

No, the broken and scattered remains of his possessions were all his doing. Greyback's taunts had fueled within him an unquenchable fire that threatened to burn down anything Lupin's eyes came into contact with. Lupin blearily lifted his head to stare into the shards of broken mirror at his feet. He barely recognized the man staring back at him. Who was he and why did he stay, and were these broken possessions scattered at his feet any different than himself? Battered.

Such a fragile word for something so complex. The others just didn't understand. They never would. His fist was still bleeding from where he'd punched it. Such an outburst wasn't like him at all. He'd never felt so…so… _enraged_. He wanted to rip Greyback to shreds, limb from limb, to relish the brute's screams for what he did to Dora. By God he'd… _No_ , his voice answered immediately. _Stay calm. Think rationally. What would Dora want you to do? She'd say stop this_.

He'd let so much slip during Greyback's polite little courtesy call, informing Lupin of where she was being held, and if he wanted her back alive, to come alone, and it wasn't' like him at all, and now the entire Order knew he and Tonks were romantically involved. _Great_.

"I just do," Sirius answered, taking a few steps into the doorway, clapping his arm around Remus's shoulder. "My cousin is stronger than we give her credit for. Tonks is tough. She'll be just fine."

Remus gave off a fake little smile that didn't reach his eyes. It didn't mask the worry in his voice or on his face, and Sirius knew it. Sirius took a hesitant step forward, something clearly troubling him.

"What?" he snapped, visibly wincing at the harsh, almost dog-like bark to his unusually kind tone. "Padfoot, what is it? What's wrong?" Lupin shivered as a cold chill traveled down his spine and he shrank into his thick woolen black sweater as much as he could.

"I know that look," Sirius said calmly. "James used to get it whenever he looked at Lily. You really love this girl, don't you? Don't even think of lying to me, Moony. You're a shit liar…"

Lupin mutely nodded, afraid if he started talking about it, he would be emotionally compromised, and that was not something he was willing to risk in the moment. They needed to think rationally about this, come up with a plan to get Tonks out of Greyback's clutches.

"I do," he confessed at last, a pained look in his eyes as he lifted his chin slightly, daring to meet his friend's gaze at last. "More than anything. She reminds of a time in my life when I was truly _happy_."

His depression was his silent, unheard, and unseen assassin. His pain had become too much to cope with and so misunderstood. Lupin could not escape it, no matter how hard he tried, because it followed him around like a black shadow that was only on the inside, eating him alive. He stood on the brink of something he couldn't describe.

The weight of everything seemed to press down on his shoulders, and he struggled to take even a single step forward. It was too much. All of it. And somehow, he kept moving. But every step cost him. The darkness grew darker, the pain grew sharper, all of it seemed to only grow in strength and Remus began to wonder if things could ever get better. But he never said a word. Sometimes he wondered if that smile, the horribly fake smile, was ever seen through. If someone ever noticed that sad, broken look in his eyes that he saw in the mirror. If they saw beauty where he saw ugliness. And then he laughed, a bitter, sarcastic laugh at himself. Nobody cared.

No one noticed. He fought for years. And then she had come into his life, and had broken down his barriers, the walls he worked so hard to keep up.

Another step forward as Sirius rummaged in his coat pocket. "I might have found something in your room that I shouldn't have," he confessed, throwing a furtive, guilty look Lupin's way and pulled out the black ring box, flipping it open with a practiced flick of his finger. The beautiful white moonstone that had used to belong to his mother glittered there, sparkling in the fading light of the sun. "You got something you want to me, and the rest of the Order, Moony?"

Remus felt the heat creep onto his cheeks as he shot a look of dagger Sirius's way. "What were you doing in my— _our_ room?" he corrected, mentally reminding himself that Tonks occupied it more than he did these days.

Sirius smirked, the shadow of his mischievous, seventeen-year-old self returning to him in a moment of rare nostalgia. "If you must know, I was looking for a spare sweater. It's bloody freezing in this place, and I know you keep a ton on hand," he joked, but then his smile faltered as his gaze drifted downwards to the ring box in his hand as he turned it in his palm, shifting it, admiring the beautiful ring in its simplistic, understated elegance. "Just like Tonks," he added, glancing up to notice the darkening look in Lupin's eyes. " _What_?" he added. "It's true! I think my cousin's going to love it."

"And that's private. But if you must know, it's about to get a lot more complicated," he sighed, snatching the ring box out of Sirius's hand, trying his hardest to ignore the smug smirk on his best friend's face. "I was…well, sort of…you know, going to ask her later this month, once things calmed down a bit. Halloween is her favorite holiday, you know," he added, a faraway look in his eyes. "It used to belong to my mother," he said softly, curling his finger over the box's lip, snapping it closed. "She's…"

But his voice broke and he couldn't finish that thought. "It's not safe for her anymore," he growled, turning to Sirius, and for a moment, Sirius Black was surprised to see the shadow of the wolf cross his face. "All I've done to Dora is put her in danger, just by knowing her, she's now a target. She's branded, but I—I can't seem to stay away from her!" he shouted, feeling his voice rise an octave as he seized tufts of his light brown hair. He looked quite livid. "Sirius, I don't think I can do this to her anymore. I've done nothing but endanger her ever since she and I met, and if something happens to her because she was cursed with the misfortune to know me, then she would be better off, a hundred times so, without me, without a husband of whom she must always be ashamed, one who has to go away once a month. She would worry I wouldn't come back, and I certainly can't seem to keep a decent job long enough to provide for her, or any children that we might be cursed to have. Our kind aren't even mate to mate, let alone _breed_ ," he bellowed. "If I had any kind of sense, I'd walk away from this before it's too late!"

Sirius looked as though Lupin had slapped him, a look of outrage and disbelief flickering across his handsome face. His dark hair fell in front of his face like a curtain, shrouding half his features in shadow, rendering his expression in the moment mostly unreadable. Remus barely had a chance to react as his friend strode across the room and backhanded him so hard across the cheek that Lupin staggered backward, clutching at his eye. A red welt was already forming, and one of Sirius's rings he wore on his finger left quite the marking.

"How _dare_ you speak about yourself like that?" roared Sirius, his face reddening in rage. "Are you even _listening_ to yourself, Moony? You're talking about yourself as though you're some kind of—of animal. A _beast_. Molly and Arthur were right. Merlin's beard, I didn't want to believe it, but I can see now that they were right," he snarled, his lips curling upward into a twisted sort of grimace. "You have a chance to make yourself, not to mention Tonks, perfectly happy for one in your damn life, and you're talking about abandoning her right now, when she might not even be _alive_ anymore? What the hell is wrong with you, Moony? _Seriously_?" Sirius took a faltering step backward, as though truly seeing his best friend for the first time in a completely new light. "You don't mean this; I know you don't! I'd have never believed this of you. James would be disgusted by what you're thinking of doing right now. I'd have never believed it. You, the one who was the bravest out of all of us, whether you knew it at the time or not, you're a _coward_."

Remus glowered at Sirius, feeling his hand curl into a protective vice grip over his wand. He didn't want to use it against Black, but by God, he would if he absolutely had to. "Get out of my way, Sirius."

"No." Sirius's voice, although quite calm, shook with rage. "No way." He moved to stand in the doorway, effectively blocking it. "Where the hell do you think you're going, Remus? You are not leaving this room yet. You and I aren't leaving this room until you see sense. Greyback won't hurt Tonks. He made that perfectly clear, he wants you there to witness, the sick brute that he is," Sirius added, spitting out the werewolf's name as though it were poison on his tongue, venom in his words. He pulled up an empty chair and wordlessly dragged it across the bedroom, flinching only once or twice as it made noise, the loud scraping sounds against the hardwood floor like nails on a chalk board. "You and me, Moony, it's time for us to have a sit down. What the hell's going with you?" Sirius growled angrily. "We can all see how much you love Tonks."

Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair in anguish. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he turned his head sharply away, so he wouldn't have to look into Sirius's inquisitive, curious eyes. "It's…"

"Complicated, I know. You've made that perfectly clear," grumbled Sirius, twisting the chair backwards and straddling it, tossing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. "Every relationship takes work. Look at Molly and Arthur. Look at any other couple in this world. You really think you're doomed to a life of solitude, just because of your condition?" he snarled, the briefest flickers of anger coursing through his eyes. "No offense, Moony, but that's bullshit. Your condition is manageable with the Wolfsbane Potion. Tonks has been making it for you the better part of the last six months. Better her than Snivellus," he added, scrunching his nose in disgust at the thought of Snape entering into Grimmauld Place yet again. "You're perfectly capable of having a normal life. I know you love my cousin. You wouldn't have gotten that ring if you didn't," he added, his gaze drifting downward and noting how Lupin's hand instinctively drifted towards the pants pocket of his khaki's, making sure the box was still there. He snorted, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. "Marry her, Moony. You never needed anyone's permission. Except for maybe Ted's," he added mockingly, letting out a cynical chuckle at the dawning look of fear at the idea of having to ask her father's permission. But he knew that Remus would do it. He was old-fashioned in that regard. "And I expect some kind of invitation by owl too, Lupin." A beat. A pause. "Given everything though, if I know you Moony, and I like to think I do," he snickered. "Why a moonstone?" he asked, not even waiting to ask for permission before reaching across his chair, much to Lupin's quiet protesting as he pulled out the ring box again, flipping it open to glance at the ring that glittered in the box. "You hate anything that reminds you of your condition, Moony," he added. "So why a moonstone?"

Lupin sighed. "It was my mother's. Dad gave it to her during Halloween after a year of steady dating. Say what you want about it, but it's beautiful, and given the ah…unique way that we met, I think she'll like it. It's simple, beautiful. Just like Dora," he added, fully aware he was getting that strange faraway look in his eyes that Sirius loved to tease him so much for. Quickly jolting himself back to reality, a quick glance toward Sirius told Remus that laughing was the last thing on Sirius's mind, for which Lupin was incredibly grateful. He let out a huff of frustration, a release, and snatched the ring box back, pocketing it for safe keeping. "I hope so anyways."

Sirius's brows shot so high up onto his forehead that they almost disappeared into his hairline. "Does this mean what I think it does, then?" he added, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile. "You're going to get your head out of your ass and stay with her, then? Go the whole nine yards, ask her, marry her, then?"

Remus mutely nodded. "Yes," he replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks for making me see it, Padfoot," he said.

Sirius grinned, almost a wolfish smile that slightly unnerved Lupin, if he was being honest with himself. "Anytime, my friend." He clapped Remus on the back and wrenched him out of his chair, irritably waving his wand. "Evanesco," he added, and the chairs vanished. He turned back to Lupin, a hand on the doorway. "You coming?" he added, his brow furrowing at the look on Remus's face. He was quite pale, almost to the verge of passing out, and the look of fear in his eyes was unmistakable. "Moony!" he barked.

Startled, Remus looked toward Sirius and gave a curt nod. "In a second." The wizard was surprised at the harsh bite to his tone.

Sirius nodded. "Be sharp about it. We've got your leading lady to save, and if there's one thing I never miss, it's a call from a damsel in distress," he added, a note of smug pride in his voice. "Let's go save your future fiancé and kick this bastard's ass. I know you've been waiting for the right moment. No time like the present, I think."

Remus waited until Sirius had fled the room, stifling a smile as he began to bark orders towards the other Order members, hollering for Mad-Eye, shouting something about constant vigilance. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, feeling his left hand drift yet again to his pocket, where the box was kept safe for now. Instinctively, he pulled it out again for what had to be the millionth time this morning, and studied the elegant moonstone glittering in its box.

"I can't wait to give this to you, sweetheart," he whispered lowly. "You'll see, Dora. I'm—I'm going to save you, love," he swore, running a hand through his light brown hair in anguish. "I promise."

He faltered in his resolve for a moment, his confidence that had until just now previously soared to unheard of levels, thanks to Sirius's little pep talk, faltered and vanished as he realized the hardest part lay ahead of him still. Asking Tonks was the easy part. No, the worst was still yet to come. Asking her father for his blessing to marry her.

This thought was still on his mind as he, Sirius, and Mad-Eye all Apparated on the spot, Sirius's playful shouts about going off on another adventure to save a damsel in distress lingering in his ears.

The small spark of hope was there, that Tonks was going to be safe, and by the end of the night, she'd be back with her people, where she belonged, and Greyback a distant, unpleasant memory. Hopefully, in a few days, he would learn of her true feelings for him. His heart would either be broken if she said no, or his entire year made. The spark of hope ignited a tiny flame in his chest, just a flicker against the wind, but it was enough to keep him going.

"I'm going to save you, Dora," he swore under his breath.

_I promise._


	10. Numbered Days

Tonks drifted into unconsciousness. And then back out again. Repeat this process a few more times. She was barely staying awake as it was, but she knew her life depended on her being alert, or as Mad Eye liked to call it, maintaining constant vigilance. There was nothing in this tiny cell but her own heartbeat. At times, she hit the iron bars with the fragments of her broken wand, just to hear something different, to make a tune. Then the futility of it all hit the young Auror. She could imagine music all she wanted, but these walls weren't crumbling any century soon, magic or not. Her mind went into overdrive. Where was Remus? Was he safe? He won't find her, Greyback had made that perfectly clear. Not until he wanted Lupin to find her. So, here she was, trapped in a prison cell with no window, no chair, no table, not even a bed.

Not even one thing that might bring her comfort. Tonks only had her own insistence for comfort. Whatever crime she'd committed, would Greyback's people even give her a trial? Or would they, having seemingly abandoned the last of their humanity, settle for a rather violent and bloody death of ripping her to shreds? Despair crept over her. This couldn't happen to her. Could it?

"What a shithole this is," Tonks growled, her fear surfacing in the form of an emotion she was more at ease with: sarcasm and anger. The prisoners could never escape their own conscious thoughts. They haunt and yell, scream in the back of their minds, until they blurred together and mixed, leaving the people who had been in this cell before her to rip out their own hair, all for relief. Imprisonment left you with yourself. Alone with just you for company, and that's when the other part of you would start to speak, blathering, arguing with your own thoughts, screaming for attention. And that's when prison would break you, leaving you to break yourself. Until there was no more of your soul, what made you _you_. All that remained was a shell, a hollow one, without life, without spirit, sort of like the Dementor's Kiss, and if such a fate was to be what Greyback had in mind for her, if that was her future, then—

The sound of the horrible cell door creaking open startled her awake, causing her to bolt upright faster than she would have liked, sending her mind reeling and black spots danced in front of her line of sight. This was to be what, her third beating? Fourth? To be honest, after the first couple, she kind of lost count after she refused to tell Greyback a damn thing of the Order and passed out for about an hour. Glancing down at her bare and slightly bloodied feet, she stared. "What the hell?" she murmured darkly, as she was violently wrenched to her feet by an unknown wizard, one of Greyback's men. She was dressed in a flowing white maxi gown, sort of dress robes, a garment that no money could buy, and no amount of skill could craft such a beautiful thing, but clearly someone somewhere had. The man glaring at her barked something inaudible, yanking her forward roughly by the bound pair of manacles on her wrists.

"Isn't this all a bit medieval?" snapped Tonks to her captor, desperate to keep him talking, stalling, anything until help arrived. "We're a society, aren't we? This is a bit much," she whisper-hissed, lifting her wrists and showing the werewolf her chains. " _Chains_? Really?" she growled. "Why doesn't your leader just kill me, then?"

To that, the wolf actually laughed, and it sent a tremor of fear down her spine, but she bit it back. "Oh, sweet thing, he doesn't want to kill you, pet. Far from it, sweetheart. I'd hate to ruin the surprise. You'll see." The wolfish grin baring yellow canines at her did nothing to calm Tonks' nerves. One glance at her reflection in a nearby mirror as they passed was more than enough for her.

The hues of her pink vibrant pixie had dulled slightly, matted and tangled with congealed blood. She'd used a spare shard of broken glass to cut it the shorter she'd ever had it in her life, as a last ditch effort to prevent Greyback or any of his lackeys from grabbing it if they were of a mind to do so, and judging by the look in this one's eyes, she did not doubt that they would try before the night was out.

She glanced down at the white dress she wore and froze. One slight move of her leg revealed the leg slit in front. "The hell? Does your boss have a crush on me or what?" she snarled, unable to stop her temper from flaring, and she knew by the look in the man's eyes that she had, once again, taken it a step too far. He backhanded her, the loud echoing sound of his slap lingering in the corridor.

"Make one more sound, _witch_ ," he hissed. "And I'll rip your throat out. See if I'm fucking joking," the werewolf snarled. "You might have been able to get away with talking back in other places with other people," he added darkly, a brief flicker of something akin to sympathy flashing through the man's brown eyes. "But here, it is very different. Here, if you speak out in turn against Greyback, he will kill you, and you won't like how he does. We're still keeping up the remains from the last one that dared to speak out against him, so please…for our sake, shut the hell up and stay quiet, you hear?"

Tonks mutely nodded, instantly regretting her little outburst.

"What's your name?" she asked, doing her best to ignore the sadness that sat below her face, remaining dry, her expression impassive. She would not give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her upset like this. She knew that if she even let a fraction out, then the rest that would follow a never-ending torment of grief and fear.

These people, these creatures, took her. Tonks did not know what they wanted with her specifically, but they weren't human or wizard. These werewolves had long abandoned their sense of humanity. It was their eyes that gave away what they truly were.

Yellow eyes the color of brilliant topaz, cold and lifeless. Evil.

_Except this one_ , her voice advised her, though Tonks still harbored a twinge of caution toward this one. The man, if she could even call him that, didn't look a day older than twenty-three. Young, just like her, and the way his brown eyes shifted nervously around the hallway, Tonks' training kicked in. He was nervous.

The wolf before her leading the way was handsome enough, she supposed, with a thick tuft of dark brown hair and brilliant yellow eyes. "You can relax," he growled. "I won't harm you, ma'am."

Tonks was unable to bite back her retort. "Oh. How endearing. The wolf feels. How _charming_." The young witch knew she was being kind of a bitch to him, and he probably didn't deserve it. "How can I relax?" she demanded angrily, taking a deep breath and willed the shaking her voice to still. _Don't let them see your fear_ , girl, Mad-Eye's advice rang in her ears. "You've kidnapped me here against my will, which, by the way, is illegal! People know that I'm here, and you and Greyback are going to regret it!" Tonks bellowed.

"Didn't you know?" the dark-haired stranger drawled, almost sounding bored as he stopped at the end of the hallway and opened up a door, dragging a chair in the corner across the room to sit it, observing the young witch with the vibrant pink pixie with amusement. He absentmindedly began picking at his nail cuticles.

"Know what?" snapped Tonks, who, against her better judgement, took a seat as the wolf gestured for her to take a seat.

"Our kind has no rules," snarled the young werewolf.

Her blood turned to ice. It was a phrase Remus spoke of often when he told her of Greyback's clans, how they operated. The group had no morals, taking young children and biting them.

"You know Remus Lupin?" Tonks found herself asking, feeling dumbfounded and perhaps for the first time in her adult life, she was at a complete loss for words. But to her surprise, the young man shook his head, still silently observing the young witch, interested.

"Not personally, no. But we've been…shall we say, keeping tabs on him. And you," the young wolf added dryly, fixing the Auror with an ice-cold stare, his blue eyes, his expression utterly blank.

"Why?" Tonks challenged hotly, tugging on the skirts of her white dress and flashed a little bit of leg. If it was seductive the wolves wanted, then they would get it if it meant she would stay alive that much longer until help arrived. "And what's with this?" she demanded, gesturing to the dress. "What did you do with my clothes?" she asked, feeling the familiar pang of fear prick her heart.

"They're safe," the young woman chuckled. "Alpha thought them unsuitable for wizardkind's ambassador, ma'am," the kid added lightly, the beginning of dare, she thinks it, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No. Your kind's spokeswoman deserves better, wouldn't you say, Miss Tonks?" the man added mischievously.

Her brain stuttered for a moment, and her gray eyes took in more light than expected. Every part of her went on pause while her thoughts struggled to catch up. "What?" is all she could manage to squeak out weakly. "That's—that's Greyback's master plan?"

"It's rather brilliant, isn't it?" came Greyback's baritone, cold voice from the doorway, startling Tonks and the young wolf. Noticing his comrade sitting in his chair, he let out a low warning growl. "Wes, I told you to go back to your post," he snarled.

He closed off the gap of space between himself and the much younger werewolf until the tip of his nose was practically touching.

_So that's his name_ , Tonks thought wildly, as the young wolf bolted to his feet. "Yes, Master," he managed in barely a whisper.

"He used to be one of _your_ kind, you know," Fenrir added, his voice coming out gruffer than perhaps he would have liked. "An Auror. But he's not a wizard anymore. He tried to steal from us. I punished him for it," he sneered, his lips curling into a wicked sneer.

The young wolf called Wes flinched, but didn't turn his back.

"Yes, Master," he mumbled, sheepishly looking toward the floor.

"He's not a wizard anymore. He's one of us now," Fenrir grinned, a note of pride in his voice. " _Aren't_ you, Wes?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," repeated Wes, sounding absolutely terrified.

Fenrir nodded, irritably waving away the young boy with a wave of his hand. "Get out," he snarled, no warmth in his tone. He waited until the wolf called Wes fled the room, but not before Wes chanced a brief glance backward over his shoulder, and if Tonks wasn't mistaken, something akin to sympathy flashed through his brown orbs, but as quickly as it had crossed his features, it was gone. Fenrir Greyback regarded Tonks in silence for a moment.

The wolf rolled his eyes as he sat in the chair the young one had just vacated. Tonks could practically feel her pale face draining of color until it was ashen and clammy. Fenrir lazily waved his own wand, and Tonks let out a startled cry of pain as a length of rope bound her hands behind her chair. "What the hell?" she shouted.

"For your own good, girl," Greyback stated calmly, ignoring the young witch's protests. "So, you and I can have a friendly little conversation before the rest of the Order of the Phoenix gets here. Oh, yes," he added, the beginnings of a genuine smile creeping onto his face. Tonks didn't know which unnerved her more: the glee in his voice or the smile on his face. "I know they're coming for you."

Fenrir paused, his yellow eyes drifting downwards towards the leg slit of her white dress. He grinned, no warmth in his smile and ran his claws up her leg, eliciting a terrified shiver out of Tonks. "You're an excellent Auror, Miss Tonks," he said to her, a note of something in his deep tone, but she could not quite place what that tone was.

Intrigue? Lust? Hatred? She had no clue, and quite frankly, she did not want to know at this point. "Ah," he replied silkily with some form of amusement in his voice now, his tones smooth, melodious, and rich, as he snaked an overly long fingernail up her leg, feeling the smooth pale skin against his own. "I can see it in your eyes. There's that look," Greyback complimented, silently praising the young witch for the fact that her gaze had turned to a cold steel, rivaling that of a perfectly polished suit of armor, never once backing down from his, her gaze unwavering and unabashed.

Despite Tonks's involuntary reaction to his surprisingly gentle touch, despite her hatred for the wolf in front of her, she could feel the heat beginning to pool between her legs, a fact that she hated.

It was at least a day last since she was near Remus, and to say that she missed him was an understatement. She just wanted to be with him, to be home back at her flat, in his arms, where she belonged.

"What are you doing?" Tonks hissed through gritted teeth, wanting so desperately to spit in this monster's face. "Get off me!"

Greyback grinned, the shadow of the beast upon his face, but he did not obey her demands. "You're trying to remember your training," he chuckled, running his claws up along her leg, the tips of his fingers wandering upwards, barely grazing Tonks's jawline and the curve of her ear. He cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her head to the side, seemingly studying her looks. He lifted a lock of her pink hair and tenderly fingered it. "What's the training to cover _this_?" he mocked, that horrible smile still etched upon his face.

Tonks shot what she hoped was a charming smile, one meant to throw him off. "What makes you think this is my first time?"

"The She-Wolf has fire in her, I like that," he taunted. Greyback kicked the chair he'd been occupying even closer towards her. "It's not. Do you know why I brought you here, witch?" he asked.

Tonks could sense no maliciousness in his tone, and she wasn't sure she liked that. She would have preferred the screaming, howling, for him to fly off into a rage, to just do whatever he was going to do to her and go to hell. Anything but this dangerous quietness that he was currently exhibiting. "No," she whispered.

"I brought you here, little thing, because you've captured my attention. "You're an Auror." Here, Greyback spat her title as though it were poison on his tongue. "You are an incredibly gifted and talented young witch. And you're dating one of our kind."

She didn't anticipate his next question; it caught her off-guard.

"Why?" No hint of malice or hatred. Just pure curiosity.

"Lupin makes me laugh," Tonks answered before she could stop herself. "And he's handsome. He accepts me for who I am, not for who everyone else wants me to be. He loves me for the way I really am, not my Metamorphing," she said, hearing the shift in her voice as it grew softer as she remembered the night he'd asked if she would be his girlfriend. "That's why, among many reasons, I love him."

"I see," Greyback muttered, sounding like he was growing lost in thought. "When the final days of your wizardkind comes for you, your people will come out in droves to plead their innocence. I've seen it before," he added, noting Tonks' horrified, confused stare.

"What?" Tonks had to stop her fists from shaking. "I—I don't understand," she said at last, hating the fear in her voice. "Why?"

Fenrir sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he were getting a splitting headache. "Say what you want of werewolves. Because extermination of a species is an unpleasant business, Miss Tonks, and even more so when the dominant species is sentient. We've been studying witches and wizard for years, given we used to be like you," he growled, the slightest traces of bitterness in his tone. "Your kind, they enforce laws and regulations that make us impossible for us to maintain steady jobs, and I'm sure you know," he snarled, his dark eyes flashing, narrowing to mere slits. "You treat us like we're the very scum of the earth. Once people find out we're…afflicted, as you call it, they can barely look at us!"

Tonks froze. She too, had heard Remus speak these exact same words once, in the early days of their growing relationship.

"The number of times the Ministry makes us re-register, you'd think we were all a bunch of sex offenders," shouted Greyback, curling his claw-like nails into a fist over his palm. "It's sickening!"

He drew in a deep breath to calm himself, closing his eyes, breathing through his nostrils. It would not do to cause a scene.

"The laws have to be applied. Including our own. Nymphadora, may I call you that?" he asked Tonks, suddenly curious now.

Tonks sighed, blowing a stray strand of pink hair out of her eye and huffed in frustration, straining against her handcuffs. "I guess so. At this stage of the game, what harm can it do? Call me whatever."

Greyback nodded. "Good. Dora, then," he growled, barely stifling his grin as he used Remus's nickname for her. "The witches and wizards of London have been set the required number of messages through our…means, despite their penchant for killing our kind," Fenrir snarled, his lips curling into a truly wicked sneer.

The werewolf looked away from the young witch as a muscle in his jaw twitched. "And then, your kind cries, "It's not us! We just did what we had to do in order to survive!" The deadpan stoniness in his voice make Tonks wonder how many times he'd done this.

Ten times? A hundred? A million? The dark-haired werewolf with the haunting yellow glanced her way once during his little monologue and chuckled, as if he was a Legilimens and could read her very thoughts. "Five hundred. That's how many children I've changed and converted to our kind to support our cause," his voice so quiet it was almost inaudible, and Tonks had to lean forward, straining against her bindings to hear. "You abuse your own kind. Kill them all, waging war after war on each other. We gave you countless warnings, and you've ignored every single one. Remorse is quite easy when a species faces annihilation, but it never lasts long," he added, almost sounding for a split second regretful.

Glancing towards Tonks' stunned, too-pale face, he laughed.

Tonks hated it. "Why me?" she demanded angrily. "I don't understand. Why me? What do you want with an Auror? You—you cannot do this!" she begged, hating that she felt the familiar sting of tears well in the corners of her eyes, despite her best effort to keep them at bay for just a second longer. "This isn't fair, what can I do?"

Greyback continued as though she had not interrupted him. "We are not cruel, Nymphadora Tonks. There will be very little pain. Just a little blood, a little bite here and there. It's the only way to save you and your kind, for you to become like us, to see the world how we see it: in a dark corner, all alone, with no one to turn to, painful and bleeding," he growled, the bitterness evident in his deep voice.

"There has to be another way!" Tonks pleaded, her tears coming fast and strong now. She didn't care. She let out a tiny grunt as her wrists strained against her handcuffs, but she ignored the pain. "There has to. Our kind…witches and wizards are good people."

He paused as he stood up, a light seeming to ignite in his yellow eyes and regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. "Very well. I was hoping that it would not come to this, but you are now your kind's chosen ambassador, Nymphadora Tonks, Auror of the Ministry."

Tonks hardly dared to believe it. " _What_? What did you say?"

"I've been studying you the better part of a year, my pet. I know everything about you," he crooned, coming to stand, lowering himself just slightly to whisper it in the shell of her ear and toy with a lock of her pixie cut. "You will decide for yourself over the next twenty-four hours if you believe your species deserves a second chance. You will undergo a series of my tests, and if, by the end of it, you've convinced me that your race that was once beautiful that you've made wretched with your bloody, violent wars and famine and lack of respect and compassion deserves a second chance, then I shall reconsider and set you free. But if not, I'm killing you, girl."

The wolf shot her another wolfish grin and departed, slamming the door behind him, but not before lazily waving his wand before pocketing it, releasing her of her bindings. "Stretch your legs."

Greyback once again left her alone, with nothing but her thoughts and the white padded walls of this godforsaken prison cell for company. "Oh, Merlin," she moaned hoarsely, not daring to believe it. "Got to get out of here. Wand's broken. What do I do?"

The dread crept over Tonks like an icy chill, numbing her brain. In this frozen state, her mind only offered her one thought: _Today_. There was no avoiding it, and she felt like a cow being herded for slaughter, only the cow didn't know where it was going, and she did. She was dead if she didn't find a way out of this horrible mess.

Dread crept down her spine, leaving her cold and frozen inside. Her stomach felt full of lead, her bare feet set in concrete. Her mind, despite the knowledge that now the entire fate of wizardkind rested squarely on her shoulders, was worryingly empty. All she could do was pray things slipped into place when she took the hot seat, when finding the right answers mattered, if Mad-Eye and the others couldn't get to her before then. "Our world is counting on me. No pressure, right?" she joked weakly, letting a nervous laugh escape her lips. "Right." Too exhausted to give a damn at the moment, she slumped to the floor, fidgeting with the skirts of her stupid white dress, hoping that somehow, Sirius and the others had found out where Greyback was keeping her. With her wand broken, and her nonverbal magic skills not that great, she was, well and truly trapped.

"If I get out of this, Rem, you and I are so having a talk about that much-needed vacation," Tonks muttered darkly under her breath. "Wish Dumbledore was here. He'd know what to do." Her eyelids suddenly felt heavy, hard for her to stay awake. The uneasy sleep for the Auror soon came and consumed her, temporarily making her forget about the immense pressure she was under to determine if her very own race would be allowed to live…


	11. Dobby's Dilemma

"Good God. He wasn't kidding," growled Mad-Eye, his magical eye swiveling in all directions. If Remus was being honest with himself, it always unnerved him whenever the grizzled Auror did this. "He brought her _here_?" he snarled. "What a hovel. Wands out, stay alert. All of you. Black, don't wander too far. Stay where we can see you. Remember, you're not even supposed to be out here. It's only because Tonks is your family that I let you come." To which he received a rude hand gesture from Sirius that he promptly ignored. The old man would never admit it to anyone out loud, but he'd come to think of young Tonks as a daughter to him, and if anyone here hurt her, they'd have _him_ to deal with, and God help whoever got in his way. Glancing sideways at Lupin, he stifled a dark chuckle. The young man was hopelessly smitten with the witch.

"Tonks, wherever this beast is keeping you, do not go the way of Ollie," growled Mad-Eye darkly, sighing exasperatedly as he clunked his way forward, not caring if his walking stick made noise. "Let them hear it," he snarled. "You mess with an Order member, it's not just them. We're all coming for you. You can fight him, kid."

His protégé had a daunting task ahead of her. Not only were these—these monsters—probably torturing her right now, but they had rested the entire fate of their civilization squarely upon her.

Nymphadora Tonks was good, but she wasn't that good. Moody hoped she would remain stoic. "You're a tough nut to crack, Tonks. Keep it that way," he muttered softly, turning around to bark out an order, to see the young woman's boyfriend staring at Mad-Eye, looking every bit the broken soul that Mad Eye Moody imagined.

He was staring at Mad Eye, a question burning on the tip of his tongue. "Who was Ollie?" he stammered, a pink blush gracing his cheeks embarrassedly. "She—she's never mentioned him," he said hoarsely. His tone was not jealous, per say, but rather, one of worry. "I—I knew she had a partner once, but she never said his name."

Moody's gaze drifted downward, watching as Remus Lupin fidgeted nervously. He kept taking his wand out of his pocket and putting it back, as though he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands. Mad Eye noticed that had Lupin ever had a mind to, he would have made an excellent piano player, he had those 'piano man' fingers, nimble and swift. The Auror heard it in his man's voice, the intensity behind his words, that he was jealous of Ollie.

"Ollie," Mad Eye said, letting out a tired sigh as they walked, careful to keep their voices low. "I'm surprised Tonks never said anything. His death affected her pretty badly for a couple months. But why wouldn't she tell you? Well, it doesn't matter. He was her partner. No, not boyfriend," he hissed, seeing the growing jealousy in Remus Lupin's eyes, letting out a dark little chuckle as the younger man's shoulders relaxed, the ghost of a smile across his lips.

"Who was he, then?" asked Lupin, in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice. He murmured an incantation under his breath, stowing his wand away for now, holding a small ball of flame in his palm for light. "Tell me about him. About her. Please," he begged.

It was then that Mad Eye realized this conversation was just as much for a distraction to keep Lupin's mind from drifting to dark places. The grizzled Auror let out a tired sigh. "Very well, boy."

"He died? Her—her partner? Ollie?" Remus prodded gently.

"You could say that," grumbled Moody. "Ollie was her partner before I was assigned to her. Truth be told, he was a bit of a moron. He went away to assignment in Alfriston one week and never came back home. He was found brutally murdered and mauled beyond recognition. We could never prove it, but I know it was You-Know-Who." Moody let out a shudder. "Body parts everywhere. A Muggle woman found an eyeball on the street corner. Took an entire team of Obliviators to sort out that mess, and a whole lot of paperwork on our part. Never did figure out which asshole did it."

"Why?" Remus paused. "Guess that explains why she won't talk to me too much of what she does for the Ministry. She doesn't want me to worry about her," he confessed, a pained look in his eyes.

"But you _do_ ," pointed out Moody, not unkindly. "You love her. You can save it," retorted Mad-Eye airily. "Tonks has told me everything. Just let me tell you, boy, you have one hell of a woman in your life, kid. Any man would be lucky to have her for a partner, so you'd best take good care of her. Starting with this little problem." His fingers curled over the tips of his walking stick.

"I'm getting her out," snarled Remus, not caring for the hostility that was in his tone, but given everything he'd undergone the last few hours, he didn't care anymore. He'd gone in, jinxes firing if need to. "I don't care what it takes, Moody. I'm getting her out."

"I see." Mad Eye said slowly. "And then what? You'll just…bust down the door with a Bombarda Jinx and demand Greyback release your girlfriend? What happens if he doesn't cooperate, huh, boy?"

The grizzled Auror knew he was goading the young man into his anger, but if would help the man get over his insecurities and do whatever it took to save Nymphadora Tonks, then so bloody be it.

Mad-Eye Moody almost regretted asking the question the moment the words left his scarred mouth. Remus Lupin's head whiplashed so sharply upward, that Moody was surprised his neck didn't break. Just for a brief second, he could see the shadow of the wolf pass over his still youthful features. The man was only thirty-five, but in his anger, this sudden rage, he looked twenty-six again.

It unnerved him, and not much could ruffle Mad Eye Moody.

"Then I'll kill every last one of them until there's nothing left. I don't care if I'm sent to Azkaban for it," growled Remus heavily. "They took my girlfriend," he snarled through clenched teeth. He looked livid, his already pale face turning even whiter the longer his mind dwelled in his dark place, the more he allowed his anger to stay. "They crossed a nonnegotiable line when they kidnapped Dora. I'm not going to stop until she's back home. With me. I promised."

Moody nodded. He felt his shoulders slump as he allowed himself a small second to relax. He hadn't realized he'd been so tense, but then again, it wasn't every day he saw Remus John Lupin so…so…

 _Worked up?_ His conscience offered. "You could say that."

" _What_?" snapped Remus angrily, turning his head to the left.

"Nothing," grumbled Moody, his one good eye narrowing. "Keep your wand out, boy, I think I see something," he snapped.

The mist of the evening had grown thick and dense as the afternoon passed into the early evening, bringing with it a damp chill. _Not something to be caught alone in_ , Remus thought worriedly. Lupin let out a curse under his breath as he stumbled, almost tripping over what felt like a tree root. The fog loomed as far as he could see, and no amount of fire or light from a charm could help them here. It shrouded everything in a thick white veil, the light barely managing to penetrate the sounds that should have otherwise been filling the woods near the abandoned prison.

The place was deserted, and Lupin was growing increasingly more nervous by the minute. The fog swallowed everyone's footsteps. He squinted through the fog, hoping to spot something familiar, but there was nothing. _Something's wrong. You know it_.

His intuition was buzzing like a hive of bees. He couldn't shake the feeling. "Something's not right," he whispered lowly to himself.

As if to confirm his suspicion, Lupin let out a shout as he felt something grab onto his leg. Glancing down at his pant leg, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he saw it was only a house elf.

Sirius was by Remus's side at an instant, a huge grin on his face despite the seriousness of the moment. "Jeeze, Moony, you scream like that, I thought it was our leading damsel in distress," he snorted.

"It's…" For a second, his mind blanked on the name of the little creature that had a strong vice grip on his leg. "Dobby, right?"

The tiny little brown house elf nodded; his little arms wrapped around Lupin's legs. "Yes, Master Lupin. Headmaster Dumbledore sent me, he sends his regrets that he could not come himself, but Headmaster is away on official school business, he says. The bad wolves, they is keeping Miss Tonks prisoner here!" it squeaked, the house elf's eyes wide, round, and the size of a plate. This news did not make Lupin feel anymore reassured of their mission and its success rate. If anything, he felt cold. Cold and alone, silently fuming in his anger towards what Greyback had done to her.

Rage hissed through his body like a deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. It was like a volcano erupting, his fury sweeping off him in ferocious waves, burning everything in sight. The awful hollowness, his waves of wretchedness threatened to engulf his very mind, body, and soul.

Remus could feel the anger coursing through his bloodstream. He knew an outburst was coming and his muscles tensed as much as they could. The knowing still didn't soften the blow of the little house elf's news. His emotional pain took him no so far away from the others, from Moody and Sirius, who had noticed the darkening look on the handsome younger man's face and were saying things.

They sounded far away, muffled, almost like they were underwater. His pains took him to deep within himself, to a primitive place that knew how to cope with this kind of pain he was currently experiencing. Lupin's vision became blotched with violent colors that moved without design. His wall of pain still crippled, but the terrified tiny house elf's overly large face swam back into his view. The creature had clambered up onto Lupin's shoulders and was anxiously waving a tiny hand in front of Lupin's face, trying his hardest to snap the distraught young wizard out of this mental state.

"Can you get me in there?" Remus asked suddenly, ignoring the outbursts of both Sirius and Mad Eye, how they were in this together. "Dobby, I need you to get me in there to see Tonks."

Dobby the House Elf gave the wizard a lopsided little grin that would have, under normal circumstances, made Remus smile.

But not right now. Tonks' very life was hanging in the balance.

"Yes, Master! Right away, Master." A dark look crossed Dobby's features. "The bad wolf, Greyback, they is hurting Miss Tonks very badly. Screams, horrible screaming coming from inside. She is hurt," the little house elf added with a shudder. He either didn't notice or ignored Lupin's growing look of rage. "I like her, Master Lupin. Dobby does not wish Miss Tonks to come to further harm. We can go save her now, yes?" Lupin gave a curt nod. Dobby squeaked his approval, gripping onto Lupin's tuft of brown hair for support, snapping his fingers with one swift movement, instantly Disapparating on the spot, leaving Mad Eye and Sirius alone.

* * *

Fenrir's shouting filled Tonks' ears. He'd been yelling at her for the better part of ten minutes since their last little 'conversation', demanding she pay attention to him. "We can be your friends, Tonks, if you would just allow yourself to see what your kind is doing is wrong. However, if you continue to give me a hard time, then by all means, please. Keep resisting my attempts to help you and see what happens to your _lover_ then. You understand what I'm saying?" he bellowed, his face only inches from hers, his hot breath on her face, rancid and smelled horribly of blood and raw meat.

Tonks could feel the sweat drench her skin, the throbbing of her own eyes behind their lids as she clenched her eyes shut, not wanting to look at Greyback, the ringing screams vibrating in her ears, and the thumping of her heart against her chest. She could not hear her rapid breathing, but she could feel the oxygen flooding in her lungs.

Hesitantly, her eyes befall the dead corpse before her, the werewolf that she'd accidentally killed. This one, who called himself Axel, had been coming up to get her, and she sort of stabbed him with a stick in his jugular, right where his trachea was, or had been.

That had been Greyback's first mistake, allowing her a moment to step outside for a breath of fresh air, after she'd thrown a huge fit about being detained in inhumane conditions, and should not the ambassador of all wizardkind deserve better than a barren old cell?

Fear tortured Tonks's stomach as she was unable to pry her gaze away from the dead wolf's body, its blood seeping out of the wound a sickly reddish hue, thick and garish, smelling coppery and gross.

Her stomach churned in tense cramps, the fear engulfing her conscience, knocking all other thoughts aside. _I killed one of theirs_.

 _Now what?_ Judging by the look of outrage on Greyback's face, it should have been enough for her answer. The fear continued to overwhelm her body, making it drastically exhausted. However, most of all, the fear was making her calm, and that was what scared her the most. The leader of his pack had been trying to tell the young Auror for the last two and a half hours that there was nothing to fear but fear itself, yet in their world—such a statement was not true. What about Voldemort? Many things exist that were worse than fear, the Dark Lord being one of them, Tonks thought angrily.

The truth was, for Dora, in those words were a warning that fear could change who she was inside making her compromise where she should stand tall and firm. Who put such a fear into her mind?

Right now, that person for her was none other than Greyback.

He'd shot her with something. Tonks did not know what sort of spell or potion this was, but Fenrir had come to her earlier, injecting something into her bloodstream with a simple wave of his wand, a potent mixture that was now allowing Tonks to hear all the conscious thoughts of every single witch and wizard in all London.

A chill ran through her spine as she heard someone, a young boy by the sound of it, cry for help near Sussex. It made her shudder as a freezing cold wind would wake someone. Tonks' blood ran cold and beads of sweat dripped down her face. This boy, whoever he was, was being violently murdered, no one coming to help the poor kid.

And the werewolf in front of her was forcing her to listen to such monstrosities, claiming it would help her to determine her decision.

Tonks huddled in the corner of her prison cell, shivering as she clutched her knees for warmth, not caring if the white dress she wore got dirty. She'd never felt more helpless in her entire life, not knowing what to do for these people, too scared to think or speak.

At last, by some unforeseen miracle, she found her voice. "You're a monster," Tonks hissed through clenched teeth to her captor. She pointed to her left wrist. "Fix this. Take it out! Whatever you did to me, whatever you injected me with, get it out!" she shouted, not giving a good goddamn what happened to her at this point. It was clear to her the werewolves doing Voldemort's dirty work were not going to let her or anyone else live. They had no intentions of letting their people survive. It was all just a sick game, what he was doing, was going through the motions.

Fenrir Greyback clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. "I do not believe you in a position to make demands, are you, sweetheart?" When she did not respond, he continued, cupping her chin in his hand, forcing the young witch to meet his glowering gaze. "No. You're not. You are at my mercy and whims for the time being, sweet thing," he sneered, seeming to relish in her discomfort. "Part of your…tests, shall we say, involve a certain amount of discomfort to you, I will admit that, but it is a necessary evil to ensure you're capable of making the right decision, Tonks."

"But this is torture!" screamed Tonks desperately, scrambling away to a further corner of her tiny cell, as far away from this beast as she could get, feeling her cheeks flush red at the implication of his further threats to come. "See _this_? And _this_? What _is_ this if not _torture_?" she yelled, holding out her arm to the light, her skin ghostly white in the glow of the dimly lit prison cell she was being kept in. The worst of Fenrir Greyback's bruises were his grip marks, his scratches, how he likes her to be trapped while he raged, screamed obscenities into her ear, threatening a fate worse than death. There was a cut above her left browbone, the blood already dried and brown, and her abdomen felt like it was on fire.

Tonks panicked a little internally, hoping none of her fear showed on her face, hoping that everything was going to be fine.

She bit her lip, wondering if she should tell Greyback the truth.

_If I tell him, then maybe I—I can stall him a little longer…_

He moved to strike her again, and she immediately raised her hands in self-defense. "STOP!" she pleaded. "I…I'm…"

Fenrir paused, his nostrils flaring, his yellow eyes narrowing.

"I smell it," he breathed, sounding awestruck for a moment. He grinned, and Tonks fought back the urge to be sick. "You've got a little _wolf_ cub growing inside of you. A little furry chap just like Lupin, only much _smaller_ ," he growled meanly. "Trust me, girl. I'm a wolf. We can sense these things." At last, he lowered his hand.

Greyback fell silent for several excruciating moments, seemingly lost in his own thoughts now that the ugly truth was revealed. His yellow eyes looked almost quizzical. "It's necessary," he said at last.

Tonks bit her bottom lip hard enough to bleed. Oh, _God_ , how had this happened? Oh, she knew _how_ it had happened of course.

So bloody caught up in the moment, she couldn't even wait for Lupin to finish the contraceptive spell, just wanting more of him.

Now she was pregnant, and there was going to hell to pay for it.

His voice was cold, emotionless, and quite frightening. Tonks said nothing at first, for fear it would invoke another outburst from the werewolf, and she could not risk harm to her or Lupin's baby.

She'd hoped to tell Lupin tonight, but that was going to have to wait. After the first couple of Greyback's beatings, she kind of lost count. Now all she could do was stay silent and hope for the best.

At this stage at the game, she almost—almost—wished that he would just end her suffering and just kill her. If he was going to kill them all one by one anyways, might as well just do her in, be done with her. But nope. It became clear to Tonks she wasn't going anywhere. That look of intrigue in Greyback's eyes said it all.

Here she sat, with life clinging to her like a disease. It seemed fate had other ideas in mind for her, and she knew what she had to do.

Letting out a slight huff of frustration, Tonks closed her eyes, and fought back a wave of nausea, feeling the acidic bile creep into her throat. "I won't make any decisions regarding wizardkind's fate, Greyback, until you allow me to speak to Remus," she said quietly.

Her voice was clipped and hard, tense. The voice of someone else, someone stronger than she was, a leader. It wasn't her voice.

"Let me speak to him," Tonks continued, lifting her chin and jutting it out slightly, daring to look the werewolf in his yellow, beady eyes. "I want to talk to Remus, and not just through a Floo Network if you have one, or a Patronus message. In person. Now."

Fenrir laughed, and that only fueled her ire even further.

"That's my deal," Tonks growled, balling her hands into fists at her side. "I want to see Lupin. He needs to see me, to know that I'm alive and unharmed. If you don't, well, then I'm not responsible for what happens to you," the Auror added, a smug note in her tone.

Greyback continued to laugh. "Your aunt did warn me you had spirit, my dear. Oh, yes, Bella is here and just _dying_ to see you," he added, relishing in the grow look of fear mounting in the pink-haired Auror's eyes. "I commend you for your bravery and audacity. It's quite admirable, but it will not help aid you in your decision."

"All the more reason for me to see him," Tonks snapped, swallowing back the lump forming in her throat, fighting back the urge to be sick. She tried a different, slightly softer approach. " _Please_." She lowered her voice, keeping the hostility to a minimum. "Can't you at least grant wizardkind's ambassador that much? If you and Voldemort are to die in a few hours regardless of what I tell you or not, the least you could do is let me see him one last time." Her voice cracked, and she turned away sharply, hoping Greyback didn't see the fear in her gray eyes and the onset of tears.

She tried one more time when he did not respond. " _Please_."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, hardly audible against the roar of the wind outside. Tonks thought it was the use of the word please that did it. The young witch could practically see the wolf's expression softening just a little as he dared to meet her gaze.

Greyback let out a tired sigh, and that's when she knew she'd won. Fenrir frowned, lazily waving his wand, and, to her surprise, Lupin and none other than one of Hogwarts' house elves, Dobby, appeared. The house elf was sitting perched on Remus's shoulder.

Fenrir's gaze was unwavering and unabashed as he glowered at Tonks, storming out the cell door. "Fine," he growled, and before she could even utter another syllable, Lupin opened his mouth to fire a well-aimed jinx at Greyback's back, only for him to deflect it.

Lupin was sent sprawling backwards, barely managing to keep the poor little house elf from sprawling. Tonks visibly winced as she heard something pop, likely his wrist or shoulder out of its socket.

"GOD!" he screamed, though his was not a cry of pain, but of rage. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!" he yelled.

Tonks stared, unable to help it. She'd never seen him lose it like this. He was always so calm and collected, and for this to happen…

"Yes, yes. I'm a brute. I _know_ ," snarled Greyback, fixing Remus with a cold, hard stare. "I've waited a long time for this moment, boy. Make your peace with one another. You have one hour. Then I'm coming for your answer, girlie, and you'd better pray I agree."

Slamming the cell door behind him, sealing off the exit with an enchantment of his own, Tonks stared after the doorway, at the space where Greyback had stood, only moments before, before finally tearing her gaze away from that and having eyes only for Remus. "Dora," he whispered, his voice breaking as he practically bowled her over in an almost violent hug. "Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?" he demanded, his jaw becoming rooted and hard as he pulled back slightly, holding her steady by the shoulders, examining her for any injuries. "Did he…did he…?" His voice trailed off.

Tonks knew what he was asking. If he'd raped her.

"No." Her voice barely came out as a whisper. "He didn't. But he put something in my wrist," she added, raising her hand to the light. "It was too dark, I—I couldn't see what it was. "I'm fine though." She smiled and met Lupin's light brown eyes, hoping the gesture was enough to quell his rage, but her smile quickly faded as his eyes bore into hers, desperately searching hers for the truth.

Tonks had never been good at hiding her emotions, especially not from Lupin, but what could she say? It's just what he did to her.

"How are we going to get here out of here?" she whispered, shifting her gaze towards the tiny house elf huddled in the corner.

"Mistress Tonks!" Dobby squeaked, engulfing her in a hug. He turned towards Lupin, who was barely fighting back his urge to smile, despite the seriousness of the situation, at seeing the tiny house elf wrap his little arms around Tonks' middle, his hardened heart melting just a little at seeing Tonks reach up a gentle hand and give his head an affectionate pat, glad to see him. "We could maim them?" he squeaked, his voice coming out sounding rather hopeful.

Tonks let out a short laugh that she quickly disguised as a cough under Lupin's dark gaze. He clearly didn't think it was very funny.

Remus did not say anything, at least not at first. His brow was furrowed, and he seemed to be thinking about something, lost in thought. He scooted a little closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "I was worried about you," he said quietly, no trace of humor in his serious tone. "I was fully prepared to kill them all."

"I'm glad you didn't," Tonks whispered, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "That isn't you. I won't let you destroy yourself anymore. I only wish that I could have told you."

"You just did," he added, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.

Tonks pulled back slightly to study his face, realizing his smile was genuine. He was just relieved to see that she was alive and for the most part unharmed. She opened her mouth to speak, but she did not get a chance. The sudden pain in her stomach had an unpleasant warmth, eating away at her insides as it consumed her, just enough for to clutch onto Remus's arm for support and breathe slow. Lupin was saying something to her, sounding utterly panicked, but she couldn't make out what it was. As an Auror, she'd often prided herself on the ability to ignore pain and just keep on regardless, but that just wasn't possible right now. It owned her, dominated every thought, controlled her every action right now.

The pain in her stomach wasn't sharp like a needlepoint or a knife, but it burned her insides better than boiling water. Everything felt scalded and move or not, Tonks was in more pain than she could have ever imagined. The Killing Curse would be a mercy right now.

"Dora?" Remus demanded, shaking her slightly, but she could not respond. "Honey, what is it? What's happening?" he pleaded.

But Tonks couldn't respond. She just knew that something was happening to her. She wanted to scream, to tell Remus to make it stop, but she opened her mouth in a silent scream, she couldn't form the words. She could no longer see clearly, there was a white cloudy haze in her vision, and it felt like she was no longer in control of her own actions, almost as if she was being possessed. The last conscious thought before she dove for the blackness was of their unborn baby.

"Master Lupin, what's happening to Mistress Tonks?" Dobby asked, sounding perhaps for the first time since his release from the Malfoys' servitude, frightened. The house elf could only watch as her eyes clouded over and became white, almost blind, and she ceased her movements, becoming absolutely still, limp in his arms.

"I—I don't know!" shouted Remus, careful to support her head, as he slumped against the prison's wall, her lower thighs supported by his knees. "Dobby, help me," he pleaded desperately, turning to the unconscious figure in his arms, letting out a startled shout of rage. There was great pain behind that shout, Dobby knew, as he watched in silence as the young wizard smoothed Tonks' pink bangs out of her eyes, whispering something into her ear, pleading with her to come back to him. Dobby watched Master Lupin's eyes. Then he knew. The wizard's sudden budding anger was nothing but a shield for his pain, like one of those Muggle soldiers scared for his life, randomly throwing out those little balls that went boom, lonely, desperate, alone, and at a loss for what to do to help the woman.

Remus was not at all surprised when the booming echo filled the lonely prison cell. "She's under my control now," came Greyback's baritone voice. "I'm afraid…there's nothing you can do for her."

"TAKE IT OUT OF HER!" bellowed Lupin, quickly whiplashing, as Dobby had predicted, from despair to destruction. "Whatever you did to Dora, fix it right now," he snarled angrily.

"No," came Greyback's voice. Dobby looked to the left and right, seeing no sign of the figure that was speaking, or a Patronus.

"FIX HER!" shouted Remus, his face paling in anger.

"You and I boy, we need to have a conversation soon."

"I'm not telling you a goddamn thing until you fix this! Fix her!" shouted Remus, his grip tightening on Nymphadora' s limp form. He glanced down and saw that she had practically gone blind. He could see nothing but a cloudy white haze where her brilliant gray irises once were. He missed their color, the last ashes of a dying fire, the color of a pigeon's wing. He wanted to look into her eyes.

Fenrir's voice, wherever he was, let out a tired sigh. "The girl was getting to be too much of a problem. She's a feisty little she-wolf, and she smells intoxicating," he growled, goading Lupin even further. "I can see why you like her so much." He almost sounded disappointed. "It will be easier to make her decision regarding the fate of… _your_ people, without all the distractions around her."

With surprising gentleness, he shifted slightly, holding Tonks close to his chest. The blank, white stare she was giving Remus made him feel incredibly uneasy and heartbroken. He'd failed her.

 _I need you_. He remembered her words to him the night they'd finally confessed their true feelings to one another, and he'd vowed to Tonks silently in that moment that he'd always be there for her.

A tiny, muffled cry of pain broke the silence. Tonks was speaking, trying to say something to Remus, to reach him somehow.

"Remus," she whispered in a voice that did not sound like her, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes still white and unfocused through a blind, misty haze. "You're too late." Remus stared, swallowing back the lump in his throat. His anger and pain resurfaced at hearing Greyback's voice, and he hoped with all his might that Mad-Eye Moody and Sirius got to him before he did.

"Master Lupin must remain calm!" squeaked Dobby fearfully, twisting his little hands, weaving his fingers in between his knuckles. The house elf knew all too well from living with the Malfoy family for years, how quickly a man would whiplash from despair to destruction. He recognized the signs. How the slump of his shoulders quickly straightened and his posture became rigid, how his normally light, kind brown eyes darkened to almost black in color, he was growing upset, past the point of no return.

"I can see how hard this is on you both," drawled Greyback's voice, his tone flat, unforgiving. "I'll give you some time to make your peace, boy. But I'm coming for her in an hour, and then time's up. I warned you, Lupin. You could have been a great wolf, kid. This is what happens when you test me," he growled. "You go against our kind. You tried to fight what you are. There is no fighting it. Our kind are not meant to have a normal life, boy."

The voice faded away, leaving Remus with Tonks and Dobby. The tiny house elf had yet again clambered up onto Lupin's shoulder, poking Tonks's shoulder with his miniature fingers, trying to prod her awake. Remus did the only thing he could. He held the love of his life in his arms and prayed, somehow, that she heard him.

Like one of those cheesy Muggle horror movies Tonks loved so much and insisted they watch every Friday night, it played again in his mind, watching Dora go from vibrant, full of life and alive, to _this_. It played repeatedly, as if his brain was unwilling to let the images go and its attempts to analyze them, made poor Remus see them all over again, when he just wanted Tonks back, the way she was, for their lives to go on as they had been. He knew the more he tried to repress it, the more it would just play again, but he couldn't help it. In moments, he was back at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, with the cold darkness pushing against him as Greyback's message rang in his ears, the moment he'd realized Tonks had been taken.

Streaks of fire burned his cheeks as he cried. Each new wave a hot trail of agony as he gently rocked Tonks back and forth in his arms, as if he could will her to wake up that way. Fire of shame and anger at his failure to protect the woman most important to him burned just underneath his pale skin and a deep emptiness filled his heart as the sentiments brewed over and boiled past the seams he could no longer hold together. There was no hope for a man who cried to his death, drowning himself in the tears of his personal hell.

"I don't care what I have to do, Dora," he whispered, when he'd finally managed to regain at least a little composure, though he considered it a damn miracle he could even form a coherent sentence. "I'll burn this whole fucking forest to the ground if it means keeping you safe. I won't let them get away with us. Look what they've done to you," he wailed, burying his head in her hair.

He was grateful she wasn't awake to hear him curse. She'd always hated it, and it was rare that he did, but this definitely counted as a stressful situation, and he felt that it was highly warranted this time.

 _I'll get you out, Dora. I promise…_ A stray tear slid down Remus's cheek. He was crying for her. The first time in perhaps his entire life, he was crying for a woman that he loved, more than he even loved himself. He cried, and Tonks wasn't even awake to mercilessly tease him about it. Lupin gingerly raised a hand, smoothing back a stray wisp of pink hair behind her ear. Tonks's spirit was gentle, and her very presence was like the sun itself, and without it, his miserable life was nothing. How could he be expected to continue, when he would never see her smile that beautiful white, infectious smile that lit him up from the inside again? Lifting her limp form just so, burying his face in her hair, allowing the sweet scents of lavender and jasmine to fill his nostrils, his jaw rooted shut.

Clenching his eyes shut, his teeth rooted in the effort to stay calm. But he just couldn't. The dam broke, and suddenly, he felt his tears begin to slide down his face. It was more than just crying.

It was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person drained of all hope. He was only vaguely aware of Dobby wrapping his tiny arms around his middle, doing what he could to convey some small measure of comfort. He cared not for her blood from her various cuts and bruises that soaked his shirt or stained his palms.

His gasping screams echoed around the otherwise empty prison. The pain that flowed from Remus was as palpable as the frigid autumnal air and soon the only other being at his side was Dobby, struggling to keep his own tears silent, looking down at Tonks.

Remus had to believe that she was safe somehow, comfortable.

"I…" His voice broke. Ever since they'd started dating, he could not bring himself to say the three words since their first night together. It was far too intimate a saying for him to just say every day like he saw other couples do, sometimes he wondered if they truly meant it, like he felt for Dora, and he meant every word.

But if there was a chance that saying it would bring her back…

"I love you, Dora," he whispered, choking back a half-sob. Hard, wracking sobs shook his frame, yet he no longer gave a good goddamn. He was only barely aware of the sound of something exploded and shouts from outside. That sounded like Moody.

"Mad Eye's outside taking care of the others. Backup's coming, and—my God," moaned Sirius, after he'd wrenched open their door with a rather violent, "Alohomora!" He rushed over to Remus's side. "What the bloody hell happened?" he demanded angrily.

"She…she…" But he could not make himself say the words.

"The bad wolf killed her," squeaked Dobby sadly, and that did it. That was enough to make Remus's tears come harder, more intense.

He didn't care if Sirius saw. The look of heartbreak in Sirius's eyes was almost too much for Remus to bear. Sensing his friend needed a minute, he slid down, his back resting against a stone pillar.

"Moony, I—I'm sorry, but Moody and I need to take her," croaked Sirius hoarsely. "She needs to…" Tonks's cousin's voice broke as he looked away from the heart wrenching scene. "We…"

Remus knew what Sirius wanted. To prepare her body for burial.

"NO!" he bellowed immediately, feeling his voice go hard and bitter. "You're not taking her, Black!" he bellowed, feeling his voice rise an octave and his ironclad grip on Tonks' lifeless corpse tighten.

"Rem, I'm sorry, but I can't feel a pulse," urged Sirius gently.

Lupin heard Sirius's words, but he could not, would not, accept them as Dora's fate. She was strong, stronger than most gave her credit for. He had never experienced grief this bad before, not even when his mother passed away all those years ago. Now, though, it snuck up on him quietly and took him under his arms in an instant.

Every memory of the times they'd spent together played like a song in his head, repeating itself for what felt like forever. "Isn't it crazy, Sirius, when the hand you want to hold is a weapon, and you feel like nothing without them?" he whispered, clutching one of Tonks's hands in his own, bringing her knuckles to her lips for a gentle kiss. "She's so cold, Sirius," he moaned. "What do I do?"

Sirius peered his head around from the other side of the pillar, close enough to talk to his friend, but facing the other way to give the distraught man some semblance of privacy. "What are you feeling?" came Sirius's question. His tone was soft, quiet, serious.

"I…" Remus's voice cracked as he fought back a fresh wave of tears as he brushed back another lock of Tonks' hair out of her face that had fallen into her right eye. "A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. I'd go to the ends of the world for her, Sirius. To the ends of time itself if I had to. It's crazy when the thing you love the most is the detriment. I thought, for so long…"

"What is it?" prodded Sirius, not unkindly.

"For so long, I was an enemy of love. My walls have been up for years, but she…she broke them, Sirius, and I…I failed Dora, Black."

Sirius let out a sad laugh, fighting back his own emotions. "She's quite good at that, isn't she?" he asked, feeling his voice go soft.

"She is," Remus agreeing, allowing just the briefest ghost of a smile to grace his lips. "For so long, it's…it's like I've had to carry around this lie. This horrible secret, Sirius and I hate it so much."

"Which is?" Sirius prodded. Anything to keep Remus talking. He knew all too well what he was going through, having gone through it with Sirius and James. But unlike Remus, Sirius had been alone, imprisoned in Azkaban, with no one to turn to. Sirius fully intended to be there for Remus to help him through the worst.

"My secret is I thought I'd never be capable of love." Remus paused for a moment, watching as Dobby clambered off his shoulder and hopped onto Tonks's stomach, poking and prodding the young woman with surprising tender fingers, feeling for any sign of life.

Lupin's voice faltered as he dared to glance down at the young witch in his arms. "Feelings. _Jesus_ ," he muttered darkly. He shifted Tonks into his arms and held onto her even tighter, burying his face once more in her hair. "The truth is, Sirius, for so long, I—I'd forgotten what those even were. I'd been stuck in one place. In a cave, you could say. A deep, dark cave. And then…Dora came into my life and for the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again," he breathed, feeling slightly breathless. "I started to feel happy. At peace. And now…" His voice cracked as he gazed at Tonks's lifeless body. "Everything's changed, because she's gone."

All it took was another glance at the young Auror in his arms for his tears to come again. Lupin cried as if his brain were being shredded from the inside out. Emotional pain flowed out of his every pore. From his mouth came a scream so raw that even Sirius's eyes were wet with tears, and he was a man who rarely ever cried.

From Lupin's eyes came a thicker flow of tears than he had cried even for his mother all those years ago. He'd expected to bury his parents one day, of course, but never the love of his life. Sirius was talking to him for all the good it did, desperately trying to calm him.

The whole world had vanished for him, now there was only pain enough to break him, pain to change him beyond recognition.

"I know," Sirius whispered, brushing back his tears with a flick of his finger. "But that's not how life works, Moony. It's naïve, to hope things will never change. It's moving, always moving, whether you like it or not. And yeah. Sometimes it's painful. Sometimes it's sad. And sometimes…it's surprising. Happy, even. Tonks would want you to be happy. Don't let her death stop you. When life hurts you, because it will, remember the hurt. The hurt you feel is good. It means you're out of that cave," Sirius said somberly to Remus.

"What happened to Dora was my fault, Sirius," Remus answered thickly, anger and pain laced in his voice. "I—I can't do this, Sirius."

To that, Sirius had nothing to say. What could he even say? There was nothing that he, or anyone could say that would comfort the distraught man in front of him and the house elf. Remus was utterly lost without Tonks. He felt as though he'd lost a huge part of his heart. Remus could not get that part back and he wanted her back so bad, as his very life depended on her being next to him.

But she was gone. At first, he thought grief was something horrible that took him ten feet under with no hope of escape, but he knew now as he desperately clutched onto Tonks's lifeless form, that it was simply the price he had to pay for daring to love someone.

Dobby's squeaky, breathless voice broke Remus out of his thoughts. "Master Lupin," he squeaked, tugging on his sweater sleeve. "The lady, Tonks, she..." But the house-elf's voice trailed off.

Remus blearily opened his gaze and tried to focus his view a few feet in front of himself, towards the little house-elf. "What, Dobby?"

"Dobby thinks he can save Mistress Tonks," he replied, twisting his little fingers together and forming a knot in his tea toga. "The lady Tonks is very kind to poor old Dobby. Gives him treats sometimes and sneaks away from patrolling Hogwarts to see Dobby and give him food and water when she thinks he's overworking himself. Dobby appreciates lady's kindess. Dobby does not want to see her hurt. Dobby thinks he can save her life. But it is risky. Mistress Tonks's wounds are great. It is not without risk…"

"Spit it _out_ , Dobby!" snapped Sirius harshly. "Can you save her?"

It was several long moments before the house elf piped up again.

Dobby scurried back over towards Tonks's limp form, resting his tiny little fingers on her stomach, pressing his oversize ears to her stomach and listening. He pulled away, his face looking stunned.

"Mistress Tonks is pregnant, Master Lupin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, cliffhanger! Not to worry, lovelies, I have the next 3 chapter outlines planned out. This is shaping up to be a longer story than I'd intended, but with FanFiction and on here, I'm quite diligent about continuing all of my stories until they're finished. There's nothing I hate worse than finding a good story and leaving it unfinished, so I try to do the same for mine.


	12. The Hardest Part

Tonks never intended to fall in love with Remus. Falling in love with the man was the easy part. It's admitting it to herself that it happened that was hard. Falling in love with Lupin was like entering a house and finally realizing she was home. Whenever he smiled at her, she felt invisible hands wrapping around her, making her feel safe. When he looked at her with those smoldering brown eyes, it felt like every ounce of breath was stolen from her lungs, leaving her breathless. When he kissed her, it felt like the entire world stopped.

Every time he held her face between his hands, it felt like he was untying all of Tonks' knots. For so long, she'd longed for it. Longed for this thing that made her feel complete. She felt herself being shifted in a pair of surprisingly strong, firm arms. Warm arms. His.

She let out a tiny squeak, willing herself to speak, a noise, a cry of pain, anything that might indicate to Remus that she was still alive.

Tonks bit her lip, blearily opening her eyes to meet his gaze.

It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears, as he rested his forehead against hers, whispering something in low tones.

"If…" he hesitated, seemingly not seeing that she was awake. "If ever I was to marry someone," he whispered, his voice breaking as he said it. "It would have been you." Lupin unclenched his fist, revealing a brilliant sparkling moonstone engagement ring. "Always, Dora."

Tonks felt a lump forming in her throat, and it hurt to swallow. Tears misted in her eyes. He wanted to marry her! Her, he'd chosen her to be his wife. Well, fiancé. She desperately tried to force her brain to command her mouth to speak the only that mattered: _Yes_.

But it wouldn't come. Though she was helpless to do anything but stare through the white haze of her vision up at Remus, whose slender frame shook. Hard, wracking sobs shook through his frame, and then it hit her. He was… _crying_? Yes, definitely crying. For her.

_But why?_ She thought. And then it came. Tonks could feel whatever Greyback did to her rendering her immobile. The young witch could still hear the tortured screams of London's people in her ears. Tonks didn't know what was happening in their city, but it wasn't good. Something was burning, the people in an utter panic.

The spell or device or potion, whatever it was that Greyback had implanted, embedded deep into her skin, rendered her immobile, almost paralyzed, feeling like her insides had been doused in oil and then set on fire. White, searing hot pain flared up both of her sides.

Tonks felt like she was fighting with every ounce of self-control she had to try to regain some small measure of control of her body.

To try to focus on something other than the pain, she forced her mind to try to relax, and to think of the nights her and Remus spent together. Her nights these days were perfect. Lupin let her see all of him, the joys, the sorrows, and Tonks knew that in her own special way, whenever she was with him, she was home. It was cheesy, she knew, but she could not help how she felt about the man. She hoped that he felt the same too. _He must_ , her conscience offered helpfully. _Or he'd have not asked you to marry him. But he didn't ask it! He just sort of implied it_. Now her voices inside her head were teasing.

The funny part was, she wished she had told Remus sooner. Maybe one day, if she could ever regain control of her body, she would. If they were lucky to make it out of this alive and unscathed.

In Remus, Tonks saw the chance for the kind of love that everyone said simply did not exist anymore. The type that spanned far longer than just a single lifetime. All her life, she'd wanted and sought after a love that was full of passion and determination.

It took tremendous courage for Lupin to step forward into the light of the sun after a lifetime spent alone in the dark shadows.

He had the heart of a lion, a true Gryffindor in every way.

Tonks let out a tiny breath squeak as she felt something thin and nimble poke her wrist and near her shoulder. Letting out a moan, she barely registered that Lupin had heard it. Suddenly, he was talking.

"Say again?" he demanded, as though hardly daring to believe it.

"Mistress Tonks is alive!" came Dobby's breathy, squeaky voice.

"She…. she's pregnant?" whispered Lupin hoarsely, and Tonks could not make out if he sounded pleased with this news or not.

Tonks tried one more time to get her mouth to open up but fell silent. Her entire body ached and screamed for relief, though not a sound came out. But what she wanted to desperately say was yes.

_Yes. I'll marry you_.

* * *

Greyback regarded young Wes from outside the prison cell, a concealment spell in full effect, allowing the two wolves to peer into the confined space to witness Lupin's distraught state and remain undetected. The others were outside dealing with the rest of the Order. The young werewolf called Wes swallowed nervously.

"Master?" he asked timidly, biting his lip. "Do you really think that was necessary? What did you do to the girl? Can I ask? Whatever you did to her, all the other women and children we've taken, Master, I've never seen anything like that," he asked quizzically, not sure if he liked the sudden shift in his master's tone. He could tell how distraught the one Greyback called Remus Lupin was, it was in those light brown eyes of his and how pale his face was. It was white.

The man just wanted his woman back alive and unharmed, but now…the young werewolf was beginning to question the Auror's presence in their encampment, but he had no time to dwell on it.

"She's ours, Wes. Miss Tonks is under my control for the time being until her time comes. I didn't want her giving the others any grand ideas. Last thing we need is Lyall Lupin's boy walking off with my prize. Every bit of it was absolutely necessary, boy," came Greyback's answer. "She would not cooperate of her own volition, so I…helped her along. You're in charge until I get back, boy," he said.

Wes nodded, though he was beginning to feel the start of doubt prick and creep its way into his heart, like a slowly spreading poison.

"Yes, Master," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

"There's a good lad," Greyback complimented, patting the young boy on the head, ruffling his hair. "There's hope for you yet, kid."

The leader of their clan left his doubting young charge to guard the door of the cell, not giving a second glance behind him at the unconscious Nymphadora Tonks or her suffering mate. Wes did his best to drown out the distraught man's wails, though it was no good.

Wes could tell the man was a hair away from reverting to the ways of their kind. He had seen it time and time again, in others they had held captive before, when a loved one would enter the room, then it became personal. The wolf was going whiplash from despair to destruction, and after that, there was no telling what would happen.

* * *

For Remus, the need for revenge was like a rat gnawing at his soul, relentless, unceasing. It festered like a septic wound and the only effective remedy was cold, hard revenge. Savage. Spiteful. Unforgiving. He would bare a grudge against Fenrir Greyback until he died or took revenge, whichever came first. It appealed to his dark, twisted sense of humor. These bastards, monsters, really, had taken the one woman who meant anything to him, and now, coupled with the news that she was pregnant and had brought harm to not only her, but possibly their unborn child, for that…they would pay. "Master Lupin," squeaked Dobby weakly, seeing the darkening look of rage in Remus's eyes. "I know that look. What's happening?"

He fixed the tiny house-elf with a cold, hard stare that even made Sirius flinch. The man that was left was nothing but an empty shell.

"They took Dora from me, Dobby. I don't have another choice," he growled lowly, still shifting slightly as he held Tonks's unconscious figure in his arms. "They've brought harm to her and her…our baby," he quickly corrected. "There's only one choice left to me." When he spoke, his voice was cold, numb, devoid of any emotion other than raw, unbridled anger and rage at Greyback and the rest of his kind.

"What is Master going to do?" asked Dobby timidly.

"Kill them all," snarled Lupin meanly, clutching his wand in a vice-grip, his knuckles almost white with the effort. "No one lives."

Even Sirius had been rendered silent, but at last, he nodded.

It was Dobby who broke the silence first. "Maiming is all well and good for the bad wolves, yes," he murmured under his breath, lifting the hem of Tonks's white dress, flinching at her bloodied feet.

"Can you fix her?" Lupin pleaded desperately. He could have used his wand, but not knowing what he was up against, he did not wish to do even further harm to the young woman in his arms, or their baby. "You're pregnant…" he whispered, still not sure he believed it. He smoothed away a lock of pink hair from her forehead.

Dobby nodded, though his expression was grim. "Dobby can help, but I—" the house elf opened his mouth to speak further, but was interrupted by the opening of the door, and in came the wolf.

"No, wait!" shouted Sirius, but Remus was past the point of no return. Aiming his wand at the young wolf, not Greyback, this one looked like a kid of just barely twenty, maybe twenty-two or so, he sent the dark-haired werewolf flying to the other side of the prison cell. "Lupin, stop this!" Sirius roared over the shouting that rent the air, as Remus grabbed the kid called Wes by the scruff of his shirt, throwing him up violently against the wall of the cell, the tip of his wand pressed threateningly into the boy's throat. "NO! STOP!"

"Fix my girlfriend, you dog!" Remus growled menacingly, the shadow of the wolf that dwelled, normally repressed, danced across his features, warping his handsome features. "FIX HER!" he yelled.

"Rem, no!" bellowed Sirius, struggling to wrench his friend off the kid, who was looking utterly terrified and at a sheer loss for words. "I—I don't think this one is like the others, not like Greyback! This one seems different. Maybe he can help us get out of here, Lupin!"

Panting, he relinquished his grip on Remus. The man was pure adrenaline at this point, though Sirius did not blame him at all for it.

"That's it, just—just calm down," he gasped weakly, clutching at his side from where Remus had jabbed his elbow into Sirius's side. "No need for violence just yet. Just let him speak. Judging by the sounds outside, Mad Eye and the others are keeping the rest of Greyback's pack busy, but we might need this kid to get past Fenrir, Lupin."

Wes released a breath he'd been holding and felt his shoulders relax as the one called Sirius Black pulled Lupin off him. He was surprised. He hadn't realized he'd been so tense and uptight.

"I—I think I help," he gasped, heaving to catch his breath. "Greyback is a bit of a brute, and he…" Wes hesitated, glancing out at the corridor, hoping he wasn't listening somehow. "Fenrir is wrong. Your people—witches and wizards," he added, seeing the furrowed look of confusion on Sirius's face, "do not deserve the fate Greyback has planned. My…I can help you all get out of this, but you have to trust me!" Wes mumbled, sounding ashamed of Greyback's actions.

Remus, on the other hand, did not look convinced. "His men, his plan," he snarled through gritted teeth, pressing the tip of his wand into the young boy's throat further, not hard enough to pierce the skin, just hard enough to enforce his intended message. He glowered at the young man with narrowed eyes until they were mere slits. "Why should I trust you? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip you apart," he snarled, baring his canines.

Sirius suppressed a shiver. "Moony, just take it easy," he warned.

Wes hesitated, wondering if he could tell these two men the truth, they were essentially strangers to him, but something in the older one's eyes, the one in his mid-thirties, told him he could trust them.

"My wife is a full human," he explained, pointing with his thumb outside. "She's living in the city, in London, away from all this. We—were going to flee to Paris when Greyback found me, took me. If the city goes up in flames, if your race is threatened, so is Norah. I'll help you, but we'll have to be quick about it. Once Master finds out I've helped you, what I've done, there is no going back for me. It's a one-way ticket, you hear me?" The young wolf snapped, doing his absolute best to quell the fear swelling in his voice and in his eyes.

His gaze wandered and settled on the young Auror, still limp and unresponsive in Lupin's arms. "Here," he said suddenly, his arms outstretched. "Relax," he added, putting emphasis on the words. "We're going to need some extra help if the house elf is going to cure her. I hope you're ready for this," he added darkly to Dobby.

The little house elf gave a curt nod, saying nothing.

"We know how to fix her," Wes said. "She's going to hurt for a few days." He gingerly lifted the woman's wrist and carefully inspected the entry point. "I see it," he added suddenly, holding out the woman's arm for the house elf to inspect. "Damn. Son of a bitch is in there deep. We're going to have to…burn it out," he explained weakly, cringing at the growing look of outrage and fear in Lupin's eyes. "I don't think the house elf has the time to do this the slow way. There's no time. We have to hurry. I—I'm sorry, b—but it has to come out," he mumbled, letting out a yelp of surprise as Lupin lunged. Were it not for Sirius restraining him, both arms wrapped around the man's middle, the older man would have beaten Wes.

"Trust us, Master Lupin!" squeaked Dobby, clearly visibly shaken, but he snapped his fingers and ropes materialized out of thin air, restraining Remus, his wand clattering to the floor. Dobby picked it up. "Dobby is very sorry, but it is for Master Lupin's own good, sir!"

The tiny little house elf helped to gingerly lay Nymphadora Tonks's unconscious form down on the ground and glanced toward the young werewolf, who was rummaging in his pack for some kind of a strange looking tool, murmuring to himself under his breath.

"I don't know if she'll be able to feel this. I hope not, but I don't want to take any chances." He sighed, running a hand through his tuft of thick hair, before giving a curt nod to the house elf. "Hold her."

Remus could only watch, helpless, the color rapidly draining from his face, what little of it was left. He was barely aware of his own scream filling the cell as he watched as the two dug into Tonks's wrist with the device, Dobby closing his eyes, seemingly deep in concentration, his tiny little hands on Tonks's stomach.

In Tonks's intense silence, she somehow screamed with her whole body as the young werewolf dug into her wrist with the tip of his wand. They couldn't summon the device via a Summoning Charm, so the old-fashioned method of digging would have to do.

Her gray eyes wide with horror, still white and blind, her mouth rigid and open, her chalky white face gaunt and immobile, her fists clenched with blanched knuckles and the nails digging deeply into the palms of her hands, hard enough to pierce her skin and bleed.

"Take it out of her! You're killing her!" Remus screamed.

"Almost…got it…just one more… there!" panted Wes, carefully extracting the device with his fingers. Tonks gave one final twitch, her head resting against Lupin's chest, who hadn't hesitated in rushing to her side once Sirius had helped him out of his rope bindings. "She—"

But his words were drowned out as white, searing hot pains exploded within Tonks's organs, seeming to course through her bloodstream, setting it ablaze. Clutching her side, she could not bear the pain as the fire ripped through her insides. She was in more pain than she could have ever imagined was possible. She would die here.

Tonks bit her tongue hard enough that she drew blood to prevent herself from screaming, but it wasn't enough to contain it. She let out a long, piercing wail that Remus knew would haunt his dreams for the next several nights. She let out a whimper of pain as she felt blood rush between her legs, as her uterus clamped and contracted, expelling what would have been her and Lupin's first baby.

She wept, tears streaming down her face as she screamed, tears of pain and rage and sorrow dripping onto the cold stone floor upon which she lay. She wept for both her and Remus, at the pain of losing a child who would now never be nothing more than a memory.

The young Auror cried and begged for release from this pain, barely seeing Remus through her blinding haze and the white spots.

In the midst of her own personal hell she was experiencing, she began to hallucinate. A blinding white light glared into her vision and the image of a beautiful laughing child danced across her line of sight.

The child was a boy, with gray eyes like her own and hair like Remus's. Remus's face filled her vision and was looking at her with such warmth and love in his eyes that she knew then, he loved her.

With true love, she felt like Lupin was the reason her life was beautiful now. What she had always longed for. Loving him was the best feeling because she was at her lowest and she talked to him, like she was trying to talk to him now, all he said in the moment was,

"It's going to be all right, sweetheart," he murmured. "I'm here."

Tonks knew that Remus was. He was with her, guiding her through the worst of her pains. He was her beacon of hope, the reason she had not to let go, to continue to try to go on after this.

His loving expression turned into one of disgust and hatred as the baby in her vision began to distort, twisting and shrieking like a banshee, transforming his shape into that of a shapeshifter, a hideously malformed wretch, clawing, scratching at her and itself.

The baby melted into a stain on the floor, a large, slimy slug the color of blood. This child, who, in its early stages of life, would now be nothing more than a distant memory, a reminder of what could have been as it trickled out of her body and onto the cold stone.

"Jesus—Merlin's beard, what do I do?" agonized Lupin, gingerly lifting Tonks in his arms. Whether a blessing or a curse, she'd passed out again from her pain, her head going limp, resting against his chest. "I—I'm going to look after you, sweetheart. Let's get you help."

He gave a desperate, pleading nod to Sirius, who nodded, his own face white at seeing his cousin in such a horrible state near death.

"Go!" he bellowed, pulling out his wand, yanking Wes forward, shoving him out of the prison cell. "Get her to St. Mungo's. Let us deal with Greyback and the _dogs_ ," Sirius spat, disgusted. "GO!"

Remus did not hesitate to Disapparate, Tonks in his arms, Dobby perched on his shoulder. He had no intention of losing her tonight.

"Or any other night," he growled, bolting inside the infirmary's doors. Tonks was immediately whisked to a free ward on the second floor, and he did not leave her side once all night as the Healers worked on her, promising Lupin to do what they could for her.

Tonks blearily awoke to the frigid cold of an unfamiliar room. She woke up before Greyback could kill her. But she could still feel the presence of the chilling claws around her throat, digging deeper into her. His sharp edges running around her smooth skin, ready to pierce her unblemished flesh. She could hear her heavy breathing and the sweat from her brow formed in beads. It was only a nightmare, but she had never quite recalled her dreams being this…this _vivid_. The young woman woke as if it were an emergency, as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing. Her heat beat fast and there was a strange buzzing in her brain and a ringing in her ears.

She knew without even having to look at the mirror's reflection hanging across the other side of the room that the day would pass as if she were hungover, not from drink, but from her nightmares that demanded a solution. The young woman let out a low whimper and moaned. "Remus…" Her nightmare had ended so abruptly, as she was shaken back into the horrible reality of her situation. Her gray eyes opened, her eyelashes faintly batting against her lids when she blinked. She was laying on a hard, unfamiliar cot, debating whether it would be wise of her to try to sit up.

Her muscles felt weak and the muscles and bones in her fingers where Greyback had so cruelly broken her finger and then snapped the bones back into place screamed and begged for relief from this pain. Tonks let out a tiny groan as she struggled to sit up, a half-choked sob of anguish escaping her lips, whimpering as she struggled to sit up and against the pillows behind her. What time was it? How long had she been asleep? Did she have clothes on? A quick glance down confirmed she was in some strange hospital gown. All these confusion questions swirled around in her exhausted mind, demanding answers. Slowly and reluctantly, she opened her eyes further. She blinked, closed her eyes, blinked again, rubbing the sleep from the corners of her eyelids. Streaks of sunlight penetrated the dismal little room she was in and blinded her.

Greyback's threats of what he would do to her today if she failed to give him her answer regarding wizardkind's fate flitted through her mind, and Tonks bolted upright, perhaps faster than she ought to have, and as she did so, she knew she had made a grave mistake indeed. Her stomach churned violently, and the nausea clawed at her throat. She tried to force down the bile, but it was too late.

Tonks was hardly aware of someone shoving a blue basin underneath her, and for that, she was grateful. Her stomach kept on contracting violently, forcing everything up and out. Her face was white as the pungent stench invaded her nostrils and she heaved again. "Easy, just get it out. That's it," someone was saying to her—was it Remus? Tonks gave a tiny nod, wanting to speak, but couldn't. She retched loud and hard into the basin until it was only clear liquid that was coming up. Her throat felt sore from the stomach acid that was layering it and her mouth tasted of bile. The stomach acid stench of vomit filled her nostrils as she surveyed the mess in the basin with watery, red-rimmed eyes. Her stomach dry-heaved again but she fought it back, collapsing back against the pillows, feeling the sheen of sweat form along her brow, and her skin began to feel hot, feverish.

"Finally," breathed the other voice. Tonks blearily tried to focus her vision a few feet in front of herself. She quickly realized it was Remus, and she felt a little guilty as the man was looking at her rather expectantly. Tonks swallowed back the acidic bile in her throat and hesitantly reached for the cup of water perched on the bedside table that looked like it needed two of its legs needing repairing soon. She cringed as the taste of vomit was washed from her mouth as she drank. Setting down the cup back in its place, she winced as she looked towards Remus. "It's you. Rem... When…when did you get here?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Not very long ago. Couple of hours, I guess," he clarified, frowning at the young woman's dazed expression. Noticing Tonks's brow furrow into a frown and the sheen of cold sweat developing there, he instinctively reached for the basin again. "How are you feeling? Are you still feeling sick?" he questioned cautiously.

Tonks shook her head no, clutching the thick woolen blanket tighter around herself. Now that her stomach had stopped lurching, she merely felt bruised inside, and empty.

Remus gave a curt nod, setting the basin back down by his feet, crinkling his nose in disgust at the smell, but he would dispose of that later. Right now, however, she wanted answers.

Tonks, with the help of Molly Weasley, who had joined them silently, looking immensely relieved to see she was awake, sat up gingerly, propped up against her pillows.

She could see her reflection in the mirror on the opposite side of the room that she looked a right mess. Battered, they called it. Such a simple word for a simple idea. But this wasn't simple. Her sense of self, once a high and proud feeling of one destined for good things, now felt as bruised as her abdomen and as broken as the mirror she was glancing into across the way. She wiped the dried blood from her pallid skin, and when she reached down to study both her hands, she could see that they had been heavily bandaged and were trembling violently. Tonks barely recognized herself. She gazed around the spare cloister cell at the broken and strewn possessions. _Did I do this?_ She wondered. _If so, when?_ And were they any different to herself? She stifled a sob with the scuffed palm of her hand and collapsed against the pillows. The sound of Remus coughing to clear his throat jolted poor Tonks out of her thoughts.

"I'm glad you're awake." He sounded immensely relieved.

"Thank you," Tonks managed to croak out hoarsely, gingerly rubbing her bandaged hand. "For everything."

"Tonks…" Remus bit his lip, a pained look in his eyes. "You almost died tonight, because of me. You were pregnant, and…I—I can't," he moaned, running a hand through his dark hair in anguish.

"Don't start this, please," Tonks begged, tears welling in his eyes. She tried again, her gray eyes sparking with a new intensity. "Is it so inappropriate for you? I can see that in your eyes, in your own special way, there is a part of you that cares for me. You saved my life. That is no small feat. I do not believe you to be so cold like you would have others think of you. After all, you saved me from Greyback when you could have easily let me die and saved yourself. Yet here you lay, conversing with me, however angry you might be. You do care." She spoke the words so plainly, in such a conversation tone, that Remus almost wondered whether she was playing trick on him.

"But you will not let yourself feel it, Remus."

"What do you think of me? Honestly?" His question caught Tonks off guard and as she looked over at the man who held her heart, she felt her heart hammering rapidly and without a swift response to offer to him as he stood, groaning at the pain in his arm from having accidentally slept on it while he'd been waiting for her to wake. He recognized her discomfort and hastily rephrased his question, silently cursing himself as he picked at the bandage on his arm. This was going to scar for sure. Frowning, she swatted his hand away. "Don't pick at it," she grumbled tersely. "You'll just make it worse." Tonks pondered over his question, feeling rather uneasy. She turned away during this process of thinking and rested her head in her bandaged hand, People had assumed but had never openly asked her opinion of one of Hogwarts's best Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. Now the man himself was posing the question, and she felt rather perturbed. Why he wanted to know the answer, she did not know, but he seemed to be asking out of a general curiosity.

It did not speak to his character that he was asking for the unvarnished truth. Very few people could directly ask such a question, in fact. Perhaps it was because of this that she decided to respond honestly to her handsome boyfriend, holding nothing back. "You have saved my life twice now, Remus," she said quietly, still looking up at the stars, the night of the fire emerging within her consciousness. "You have a lack of understanding of the world around you, but you care to a substantial degree. That alone is good enough for me. I hope you can see that none of this is your fault."

"But it is!" shouted Remus, ignoring the dark look Molly gave him. "If it weren't for me, none of this would have happened. We—we lost a _baby_ , Dora. Knowing me has been the _worst_ thing that could have _ever_ happened to you!" he bellowed, looking livid. "My—my actions have _consequences_ , Dora. It's too late! We—we didn't think this thing through, we had no idea what was going to happen and now you're lying in a hospital bed, and we've lost our baby."

His voice cracked and he fought back his tears. Cradling her head in his hands, he leaned down and captured her mouth without warning, giving her no time to react or think. If this was the last time he was ever to kiss her, to truly feel her, then it was worth it. They fit so perfectly; he could not help but let out a content sigh. Her mouth was just as soft as he had imagined and as he lowered his hands down towards her neck and grazed past her collarbones, he felt her fingers grip hold of his shirt, her hands then splaying across his chest. He had never felt anything so sensual and it was as if everything suddenly became heightened, as if they were somewhere else. She felt so much, he could feel it, but with inexperience on both of their parts, she knew not what to do next, and this only caused him to want more of her, to finish what he had started yet again. Everything was real, the tiny moan he heard her give out was real, her lips against his was real, this part especially so, and he knew, when he felt the tip of her tongue touch as his and he slanted her head and deepened their kiss, that he had never felt anything as intense as this and probably never would again. That was what she did. If he had thought he had known what true desire felt like before, he must have been dreaming. She lifted her hands to his neck, this time finding purchase in his hair, sending a tremor down his spine. Her movements were unpracticed and raw, it was clear they were both feeling by instinct, but she was everything he thought she would be and so much more. They had not had enough, and Remus could sense it as he broke their kiss at last, and as he looked down into her gray eyes, he saw a flame there that had never be present before, which only ignited his baser desires even further.

The heat from her skin was so overwhelming; he wanted nothing more than to be enveloped by it, if she would allow him. Her arms began to reach around his back and when he felt her press the entire length of her body towards his, he realized if they did not stop it now, it would inevitably lead to something much more dangerous and much more passionate, and look where that had led them.

Because of him, they had lost a baby, an innocent life. But God, how he wanted it more than anything. Before he lost all his sanity, he tore his lips from her delicate neck and held her at arm's length, forcing her to relinquish her hold on him. As they both stared at each other, their lips parted, and only one single thought ran through his mind right now. For the first time in his life, he felt truly _alive_. "You beautiful angel," he whispered incredulously, still unable to believe the turn of events the night had taken, bringing her closer towards him so she could hear him. "See what you do to me?" Her eyes widened, perhaps finally realizing internally what had just transpired regarding their admission of their true feelings and the release of his feelings. Thanks to Tonks, he now knew himself to be just a man. He was not a monster or a demon. He felt practically bowled over as she pressed her lips against his, her fingers drifting upwards and played with the ends of his hair, sending a tremor down his spine. As he leaned in again gently to kiss her, his hand buried in the back of her hair as she helped him to sit up on the bed, Tonks was caught completely unprepared. She would have thought that after all the hours she'd spent with him, watching him talk, laugh, and frown—that she would have known all there was to know about his lips. But she could not have imagined how warm they would feel pressed up against her own. For Lupin, Tonks's kiss stole the words he didn't need to say. In that silence, all their secrets were laid bare, all their passions and the spark of love that had existed between them. In that moment, in her love, Remus found her inner strength. One kiss and he knew. He had the courage to do what needed to be done.

He pulled apart, smoothing back her pink bangs out of her forehead one last time. "I—I'm so sorry, Tonks. I won't have your life in danger anymore." His voice broke and wavered as he fought back tears. "I—I don't want to do this, sweetheart, but there's no other way. I'm so sorry. I—I never meant to hurt you, honey. I love you."

"You're kidding, right?" Tonks asked, her voice shaking as her eyes met his for what was to be the last time.

"No, Tonks. It's over." Remus slowly turned away, trying to hide the sadness and heartbreak in his eyes and in his voice. "I can't do this anymore!"

"I guess it is." Tonks gulped down a sob and tried to keep her composure as he walked away, now, truly, for the last time. It was over. _They_ were over. Her heart broke into tiny little pieces; tears of regret blurred her vision. "You're right, Lupin," she whispered. "It's over, and I killed it. It's my fault," she hissed through gritted teeth, clenching her hands into fists as she collapsed back onto her bed, the strength to stand losing her, not to mention she should not have willed herself to stand on a broken ankle. "I did this to us. Not you."

Her eyes dripped with tears as Molly re-entered the room, a look full of hot shame and anger on her face. She no doubt had seen Lupin's expression upon leaving. "Tonks, I—I am so sorry!" she cried out wildly. "Molly Weasley did not hesitate to envelope the young Auror in a tight hug, careful to be mindful of her injuries.

And then she started crying despite her best attempts to hold it back. The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face and drenching poor Molly's sweater dress. She felt the muscles of her chin tremble like a small child and she looked towards the hospital window, as if the light could somehow soothe her. There was a static in her head once more, the side effect of this constant fear, constant stress Tonks lived in and with. She heard her own sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It took something out of her that the young Auror did not know she had left to give. That's the way it was when people were hard, bitter. It was like a theft, an injury no other person could see, something that she rarely let others—not even see. The only person who she let see in such a vulnerable state like this was currently walking away from her for good.

Not giving Tonks a chance to respond, Remus bolted from her bed in the infirmary room and quit St. Mungo's before she could say another word. If this was the price to pay for loving someone… "Then I don't want it," he answered bitterly, his tears intermingling with the rain as he stepped outside, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves. What he had just done was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life, to walk away from the woman he loved the most, more than himself, at a time when she needed him the most. Sirius was right. He really was a coward. But if it meant Tonks would be spared, then he would stay away.

"If this is what it means to love her, then I don't want it." He didn't want to let her go, he wanted nothing more than to wrap Tonks into his arms and never let her go if he could help it, but it was too dangerous. She had almost been killed, because of him, what he was.

They had a lost a baby. Because of him. No. She was better off without him. What Remus did know for certain was in this moment, the kindest thing he could do for Tonks was to walk away from her.

He was smart enough not to look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: All I can say is...please don't hate me lol. They will definitely be reunited, but I have a couple more chapters in mind before that happens.


	13. I'll Find a Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't originally going to throw this chapter in here, but decided I couldn't help myself. Though this story is primarily Lupin/Tonks and I don't want to do too much that would detract from their story, I thought it might be fun to get into the heads of one of Greyback's werewolves. I remember reading once that JK Rowling had in a way based the Death Eaters and Voldemort off the Nazi's, and I've always wondered if in HP there were some folks who teamed up with the wrong side simply because a) they were either threatened or b) they had no other alternatives. Especially given the stigma and how horribly werewolves at treated, thought it would be fun to explore Wes. Say what you like about him, but he's starting to really grow on me as a character, and I think he could be a useful ally going forward for Lupin/Tonks. 
> 
> We'll see where this goes!

Black clouds sprawled across the sky, billowing in from the west. Their brassy glare drained color from houses and trees and burnished Muggle cars in driveways, leaving neighborhoods tinted bronze in the faltering light. The air grew heavy and the humidity pressed down, suffocating. The scent of rain was dark and heady.

A stillness fell over the street, and in the silence came a low crackle of thunder, rolling across the rooftops to the pattering of tiny raindrops. For a moment, everything stopped. Even the wind held its breath. A streak of hot silver split the sky, and the downpour over London began. The sky became dark and low with ominous black clouds and the wind picked up, howling, crying, warning, baying like a wolf into the night. The first crack of lightening rent the air and within seconds the rolling boom of the thunder reverberated overhead. The rain fell, slow to start, splattering the sidewalks haphazardly. Then it fell as if from buckets, cascading like a waterfall from the heavens. It pounded on the roofs of all houses as if it were demanding entrance.

A hooded figure lowered the hood of his jacket, staring up at the entrance to a single house, seeming to hesitate and enter the abode.

The spirit of the house had rescued itself by sleeping in the walls, by retreating into the welcoming wood away from the dust. It stayed there with the memories of its birth, of the hugs and laughter that once were its colors and music, for that is the way of spirits. So, though the floors were bare, and the paint was in need of loving care, though the furniture lay still without the warmth of its family, it stood all the same, strong beneath the flakes and dirt of years.

Finally, he knocked. The door flung open and a young woman stood there. Her face was very white, the color of a moonbeam, or an ivory carving. A snowy face, very beautiful, like a snow queen's in a fairy tale. Her hands, too, were bone-white, but soft and elegant, as pale hands often are. She looked like a porcelain doll—he often irrationally worried that she'd shatter if she fell.

There was a warmth her brown hair brought to her features, a simple frame for that smile and eyes that held more love than she would ever admit to. The hue altered as the strands curled and moved, as free as autumn leaves playing in the sunlight. There was beauty in every color of hair, even the greatly despised "mousey brown." That subdued earthy tone is like a song softly played, bringing me to recollections of autumn in our story's setting.

The young wolf knew that some women have hair with brighter tones, inflections of vibrant red or gold streaks that catch the sunlight, he loved those too. But the Earth herself had a beauty not to be ignored and to wear the color of her soils is an honor not a misfortune. To Wes, Norah Eve Jameson was beautiful.

Norah had never seen Wes look this way, so…defeated, lost.

His eyes had a deadness, a stillness. The man who laughed often, the one who was everyone's friend had developed a hardness. It was as if Wes could read everything Norah blamed him for in one extended glare and forgiveness was no longer an option anymore.

Perhaps if he'd saved her, got to her faster, things would have been different between them. "Norah," he whispered softly.

"Wes!" she squeaked, lunging forward, grabbing his arm and yanking him inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Her kind, sweet voice was low and urgent. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Had to see you, sweetheart. Don't have much time, I'm afraid. Greyback doesn't know I snuck out. I've got maybe fifteen minutes at best, then I'll have to get back," he murmured, careful to keep his voice down, taking her hands in his, bringing them to his lips for a chaste kiss.

He'd never seen Norah look more beautiful than right now, dressed in a simple indigo blue midi dress patterned with tiny pink flowers, her light brown hair pulled up into a loose, messy bun. "I don't know when I'll get to sneak away again. Might be a bit."

"But…" Norah's voice trailed off; her delicate brows furrowed into a frown. She folded her arms across her chest, though her annoyed expression faltered and softened slightly as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "What about…the _others_?" She could not bring herself to say 'werewolves.' This was all still relatively new to her. Wizards, witches, living here in London, hiding in plain sight among them all.

Wes frowned, waving away her concerns with a brush of his hand, his yellow eyes glinting slightly in the dim light. When at last Wes turned, Norah wished he'd kept his trance on the window like he had been, watching for any signs that any of his kind had followed him.

Deliberation was over. He had judged himself already, and in his eyes, his wife only saw cold self-hatred. He hated what he was. He'd had that same look when her parents had violently protested their relationship. At twenty, Norah Eve Jameson still lived with them.

"I can't stay," he spoke up at last, as if he were reading her thoughts. Norah shivered. The ability had always unnerved her, and she knew his kind had sort of mind-readers and fortune tellers, but Norah had never believed in that kind of thing until she met Wes.

"I need your help in finding someone, No-No," he pleaded, hoping the use of his wife's nickname would placate her annoyance.

She'd been pestering him to leave the clan behind, to run away to Paris with her, forget about London and her overbearing parents, but he couldn't. once you were in with Greyback, there was only one way out. Death. Wes swallowed the lump forming in his throat and continued. "She—I saved someone's life tonight. I want to make sure she's okay." He pulled his wand from inside his jacket packet, gave it a well-practice flick, and just like in one of those sci-fi movies, Norah watched in awe as a bluish-white hologram filled the air, depicting a vibrant young woman around her age, perhaps a few years older.

Norah could already tell just by the picture she liked the girl well enough. Her hair was cut incredibly short in a vibrant pink pixie, and her smile was one of the warmest ones around. Whoever she was, the young woman had the eyes of dove feathers, not the albino kind, but the ones with a hue so softly grey that they could have been pencil drawn. They had that look of birds flying on sunlit days, the shine and quick movement, yet relaxed, purposeful, at ease. Unsettling.

Eerie and slightly haunting, but still beautiful eyes, nonetheless.

Norah squinted, narrowing her eyes and taking a step or forward, trying her hardest to commit every detail of the woman's face to memory. "I think I know this one," she breathed, suddenly excited.

Wes gave another wave of his wand and stowed it back in his jacket pocket. "Do you?" he asked, a note of hope in his voice.

Norah nodded excitedly. "She comes into the boutique sometimes. Buys something at least once a month from us," she said.

A beat. A pause. Then— "Is she in danger? Are you in danger?"

Wes sighed, hoping that it would not come to this. "I…I don't know," he confessed, pulling her close and encircling her in his arms, as if he hoped the protective, and slightly possessive behavior would calm him down. He hated getting this way around his wife. But she was _his_. No one else's. Like trying to take a bone from a hostile dog.

"Keep an eye out for me, will you? And if she comes in, you let me know. The usual way. Send Hermia," he added affectionately, finally noticing the tiny elf owl perched on Norah's dresser, asleep.

Norah glanced over her shoulder, stifling a genuine smile.

"Though she be but little, she is fierce," she added. It had been Norah's idea to name the owl Wes had gotten her to help communicate after one of her favorite Shakespeare characters.

Wes smiled. "That she is," he agreed, brushing back a lock of stray hair that had fallen loose from her bun behind her ear, leaning over to give her another quick kiss. "I have to go; I shouldn't be here. I've risked your safety enough as it is. You'll let me know if you find her?" he asked. When Norah gave a tiny curt nod, he felt himself relax. "Thank you, sweetheart," he whispered, giving her shoulder what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze, taking her left hand in his to study the plain yellow gold band she wore proudly. "I love you."

Norah smiled. "I love you too, Wes," she whispered. "Be safe."

As he stepped back outside into the torrential downpour, she followed him, seemingly not caring if her dress got soaked through.

"I don't want you to worry," he had to practically shout over the roar of the wind and rain. "I'm going to get us out of this, Norah."

His eyes said everything Norah needed to know without her husband having to say a single word. _I promise. I'll find a way_.

In the rain, Wes's hair became one with his face, wetly draped over the bone structure that drove Norah crazy, it had from their first meet in the café two years ago. His expression was solemn, serious.

Norah wondered if he knew how crazy that drove her, how it made her want to feel every inch of his skin. At the moment, here at the busy intersection, cars rushing past with wipers in full swing, though, they couldn't. She tugged on her husband's hand to stop him and moved in, toe to toe. He rolled his eyes in that way he does whenever he was happy but feeling entirely too prideful to show it.

She didn't give him a chance to overthink it, having to lean up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. The passerby on the street melted away, the traffic too, and the moment was theirs. Norah was able to ignore the strange looks her people—what did Wes's kind call them? Muggles—gave her as they kissed. He, who was so radically different.

Norah knew what the others saw when they looked at Wes.

The yellow eyes, slightly unkempt short tuft of dark hair. He was not normal, not fully human like them. The man was an outcast.

Wes's features were typical of his kind in the north, but here in London, they marked him as an outsider. His pale features, almost albino-like, considered beautiful back home, were alarming to Londoners. Their eyes were smaller than his and their mouths thinner lipped, often elongated, and when it came to Wes, meaner.

But here was where Norah grew up, and where they had met, so he always tolerated the stares and the whispers behind his back.

When he could visit her in secret when he could sneak away, he consciously brought forth the charm that came to him without trying back home. Wes took a half step back to study Norah's brown eyes.

He cupped her cheek that was slowly turning red. He smiled at his wife, his other hand shaking slightly as it drifted to her waist and settled there. His mind was repeating the same sentence repeatedly.

"Don't do this…don't do this…it's not safe for you, for her…"

But the sound of his heart was beating so loudly, he couldn't concentrate on anything else. It felt like he was going to explode.

Finally, his lips touched hers. Sparks flew in every direction, and the world was slowly disappearing around us, along with the storm, their worries and troubles over what would happen to them both if Greyback and his people found out what Wes had done for Lupin.

Norah made Wes feel like none of that mattered right now. It was a small yet warm kiss. Her lips moved in perfect sync, his hands feeling her waist. Wes pulled his wife closer, their kiss deeper. He felt her hands on the back of his neck play with the ends of his hair. A smile grew on his face as it started to tickle, finally they pulled apart.

For that kiss, it was as if they'd been transported somewhere heavenly, and perhaps if it weren't for the cold London rain, Norah would believe they might. Wes stroked Norah's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I'll find a way," he promised, whispering it into the shell of her ear. "I promise," he vowed, giving her one last kiss, before turning on his heel and Disapparating into the night air with a loud crack, leaving Norah's neighbors wondering whose car had backfired. Norah lingered in the rain, ignoring the frigid temperature.

She did not care that she was now soaked through to the bone.

Norah watched the spot where her husband had vanished, a tiny ghost of a smile on her face. She knew she would see Wes again.

* * *

It had been far too easy. His disguise this time was of a well-dressed businessman as he sat outside the table at a nearby café, watching. Dressed in a pair of crisp khakis and a gray sweater vest, a pair of black rimmed glasses on his face, he watched the young woman. A few human women glanced his way interested as he sat, lonely at his table, sipping on a cup of the finest black coffee he'd ever had. He paid the women no mind. He had other matters on his mind. "Though she's never going to be mine," he whispered angrily.

Fenrir Greyback was nothing more than a visionary with a dream. He did not care what people thought of him as long as they obeyed.

The werewolf acknowledged that he had odd methods, but they worked. He knew what life should be like, and he understood that many things and creatures were inferior to him. In his position, both in the story and in this world, to Fenrir, it was simply mercy. He knew that if he did not save these humans with the wonders of death, then they would die with the horrors of life. He couldn't allow that.

Some people believed Fenrir was evil, but he believed he was just wired differently. Others would look at a squirrel and something cute, but he saw something he could kill. He didn't want to just rip the animal apart limb from limb with his bare hands and teeth, though, he wanted to see how long it could last while he disemboweled it nice and slow. He wanted to see the light go out in its rodent eyes while he examined its innards. Oh, he could say it was for experimenting, but that would be a lie. The truth was, if he was being honest with himself, he enjoyed it. He got a kick out of it, of experimenting.

Fenrir knew that here, in the world of the Muggles, simpleminded folk, fools, a man as him was valued for his skills, honored, worshipped, even. He was the one they called upon to do their dirty work. That was why his plan was perfect. The Muggles were now _his_.

With their massive numbers, soon the wolves would overpower even the wizards. He would soon have control. He would be their god. Some people were born good and always fought the bad.

Some people were born bad and became good through great effort. Others, like Fenrir, was born in light and fell to the darkness.

And others were born in darkness, unable to see the light ahead.

Try as they might believe otherwise, Fenrir knew everyone fit into one of those categories. He wondered which one the Auror was. Were they good or bad? Light or dark? Angel or demon? "I know what I am," he whispered, staring at the young woman who had escaped his clutches. He knew Lyall Lupin's son was behind it. When Fenrir came of age, he realized the life ahead of him was one of anger, pain, and hatred. Of darkness. But did Fenrir want it?

"Yeah, I did," he muttered darkly through gritted teeth. He had grown up surrounded by fire and ash and poison and death. It was the only thing he knew, so of course he wanted it. He was never taught what love was, or what kindness was. In fact, in his entire childhood, he thought he saw just one type of smile from his and Rhys's father—a smile full of malice and cruel intent. From his dad.

"It was all I knew," he whispered to himself, still watching Tonks.

He had been trained to be the perfect killer. Brute strength, speed, agility, not to mention his skills in magic. He was good with a wand. Put a wand in Fenrir's hand and chances are he would use it to bludgeon his opponent to his death. A violent, bloody means to an end. For over four decades he slaved away, learning ever more imaginative ways to torture and kill in secret those who would dare oppose him. And he enjoyed it, because he knew of no other life.

Fenrir was watching the young woman gingerly step outside, still seemingly having trouble moving. She was incredibly weak. The Auror, the proud witch, had to have help walking by a dumpy woman with a wild head of wavy red hair, dressed in a shabby sweater dress.

"You must be a Weasley," he growled under his breath.

The young witch, Nymphadora Tonks, was looking worse for wear, and Fenrir had to confess to himself, he liked seeing her so broken and beat, though he knew this was not of his making, but of Lupin's. He'd managed to overhear every single word of their conversation. The young woman's once-vibrant pink pixie shorn so short, that were it not for her natural beauty and good genes, given she was a descendent of the Lestrange family, Fenrir might have mistaken her for a boy were it not for her graceful jawline and high cheekbones, delicate facial features. The woman was looking peaky, and she needed feeding up. She'd lost weight since her ordeal. The vibrant pink hues of her hair that gave the young woman a quirky pep to her personality was now a light mousey brown, dull and boring.

Fenrir snorted. He knew full well the change was caused by her inability to use her Metamoprhing powers. "All thanks to Lupin."

The werewolf suppressed his urge to roll his eyes. "Love…" He was watching from a seat outside a coffee bar. His expression was of one being forced to endure an unpleasant odor. His gaze was unwavering and unabashed. Those yellow eyes behind his sunglasses did not travel up to her face or down to her sandals, but they followed her as if really focused on something a couple of feet further away.

Perhaps his introspective nature led him to be locked in thought, it was hard for Fenrir to know. But he made no gesture of recognition from a few days ago by the canal, no raised hand or stiff nod. She quickened her pace to the street corner and melted into the crowd, the matronly-looking Weasley woman still clutching onto her arm.

Fenrir sighed, finishing the last of his Fire Whiskey with one swig.

"Time to get back to work," he grumbled, rising to his feet and, to a few curious onlookers, left them startled as the man was like a ghost, seeming to vanish into thin air on the spot where he stood.

Maybe he was a ghost, they claimed. And maybe he wasn't. They knew one thing though. The man, whoever he was, was big trouble.

* * *

Wes did not know how long he'd managed to stay alive. Not wanting head back inside just yet, he waved his wand and built a small bonfire, pulling up a study enough looking log and sitting on it.

To get him through the worst of his nights with Greyback, he forced his mind to conjure images of Norah, replay them in his mind.

"If only I had a Pensieve," he grumbled. Sometimes it wasn't enough just to think of them, he wanted to revisit them, to see it happen. He remembered the night he met Norah quite fondly…

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Norah Jameson lay on the blood, blood seeping through her skin, ribs probably fractured, but then, what else was new? There would no doctor, no evidence, now Daddy would be groveling an apology until he lost his temper all over again. Already, she could smell the aroma of fancy cooking, a meal she'd never be able to eat through the pains that cut each of her breaths short. There were nights when Norah would lay in bed, listening to sound of Daddy shouting. Her mother would shout, her father would begin laying into her, and then the screaming would start. She cried, he seethed, and she would push her face into her favorite small white stuffed teddy bear. Norah would think to herself when Mom left, she would leave with her, flee the violence.

Then one day, she did leave, and Norah stayed. Norah Jameson stayed with only a stuffed teddy to comfort her. Her father had been a monster. And she had killed him. Simple as that, really, and no one expected her to cry about it anytime soon. Norah wasn't sorry. Not about that. Far from it. The man was a monster. And after offing him by laying that fatal blow to the back of his skull with the back of their toilet seat after his attempted rape in their bathroom? She hadn't been sent to juvie, like she'd been expecting to. Nothing happened at all.

No one knew it had been Norah, you see. The house bore no signs of having been broken into, though there was blood everywhere. Most of it, her father's, though some of it was hers. Not a whole lot, but enough. Poor kid, poor teenager with no one to take care of her. Always a little troublemaker, too.

Best to shuffle her off someplace, get out of the town. And so, it was a one-way trip to Emma Jameson, where she lived in London with her husband, Clive. London was wonderful, a haven away from the pain and terror that had plagued her life back in Sussex. Welcome respite desperately needed, her new adoptive parents, Emma and Clive, had been solicitous and immensely kind to her. For the next two years, she had settled in with them, and lived with them while she healed from injuries both emotional and physical.

Started university. Forgot things so many times. Remembered so many others, things she would have much rather forgotten, if she was being honest with herself.

Tried to date, tried to have a normal life, tried to wash away the sound of her dad's laughter that haunted her dreams every night, and the sick, crawling feeling in the pit of her stomach that came from a vile parent who simply suffered from the affliction that he couldn't keep his goddamn hands to himself. The prosecutor, the social workers, the police, the psychiatrist…all had tutted rather sympathetically at the murder. When Norah had been found days later, wandering as if in a dream down the street covered in blood, it was assumed that she had fled the scene of the crime and hidden, simply because she was too terrified. "You'll be just fine," all of them had reassured young Norah. Blankets put around her shoulders, hot chocolate pushed into her hand in a paper cup.

Packing a few bags and being taken to the home of a lady from Mass for a few days until it could be decided what to do with her. Great, now there was help and concern. The town that turned a blind eye to every crime and disappearance had even turned a blind eye to the abuse that she went through in her own life. Fucking great. Her life improved the moment Emma and Clive sent for her. The building in which she and her father used to live, the building that belonged to Daddy the slum lord, Daddy the janitor, Daddy the pervert, was Norah's. The modest inheritance from his death was now hers.

And she had always felt wrong about running away from him. Some tragedies bound people to a place. Others drove them away. And Norah's? Well, her tragedy brought her home. The nightmare was always the same for her. Paralyzed, naked, cold, with nothing to cover herself except for a single, itchy, woolen blanket. Her father would come closer with the knife, making sweeping movements to a music only he could hear.

He would be closer, then further, and then closer again. In the distance, muffled screams could be heard. Were they hers? Norah didn't know, but she had to wake up or else all was lost. The masked man, her own father, was coming for her to kill her…

Norah Jameson awoke as if it were an emergency, as if sleeping had become a very dangerous thing for her these last few nights. Her heart beat faster and there was a buzzing in her brain, a ringing in her ears that refused to quit, and together they were as panic with jump-leads. Only now, her brain was like a flat battery, the exertions of the night being a marathon of erratic problem solving. And so, this new day would pass for the judge's secretary as if she were hungover, not from a night of raucous drinking, but from her nightmares involving her daughter, ones that demanded answers. She let out a groan as she looked at the clock. "Goddamn it. Overslept again." She'd stayed up late again, finishing up the last of her book, her latest obsession. Her mother was going to kill her. Heaving a heavy sigh, she hoisted herself out of bed with great difficulty, quickly dressed, and headed downstairs to make coffee.

It was going to be another long day.

As usual, forty-year-old Emma Jameson was running stupidly late. It took her thirty minutes to travel downtown through London's metropolitan area, and that as only _if_ she speeded and didn't get pulled over and get a ticket. Grumbling darkly to herself under her breath, she held a couple of bobby pins clamped between her teeth as she elegantly twisted her copper hair into a thick knot at the base of her head, effectively and effortlessly transforming herself into the person she needed to be before she left the house for Parliament.

Still clutching her pair of brand-new black heels in one hand, slinging her black Rosetti hobo purse over her shoulder in the other, the smell of freshly brewed coffee drew Emma to the kitchen nook. Stifling a little grin that was twitching at the corners of her mouth, the forty-year-old secretary shook her head. "Oh, no, not again. Third time this month," she groaned, taking one look at her young ward sitting at the round kitchen table, her own coffee mug clutched in her hand, one of her history textbooks lay sprawled open with papers scattered.

Dressed in a pair of skinny black jeans and a thick maroon sweater and a pair of black boots, she looked well put together, though the outfit did not fool Emma one iota. Their adopted daughter looked exhausted, dark bags prominent under her eyes, as though she hadn't had a full night's sleep in days. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, her rimless glasses perched on her nose as she reached for her own coffee mug. University student, Norah Jameson, at age twenty-three blearily glanced up from her textbook to meet Emma's piercing gaze. A pair of bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes stared back.

"Tell me you haven't been up all night, again."

The young brunette blinked once, twice, three times until she caught on that Emma had asked her question. "I haven't been up all night, Mom," she parroted back, averting Emma's gaze.

"Seriously?" Emma snorted, plunking her purse and car keys on the table next to her chair and taking a seat. "Don't lie to me, Norah."

Norah didn't look up from her textbook. "You asked me for an answer. You didn't ask me for the truth, Mom," she fired back hotly.

Emma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pink manicured forefinger and frowned, her brow furrowed. "You shouldn't be drinking coffee, Norah. You're way too young."

"You drink it, Mom," Norah shot back hotly. "And you shouldn't be smoking fags," her daughter challenged, looking up at her mother.

Emma felt her face heat up as a rosy blush spread throughout her cheeks. "I—I don't…" Emma blubbered, flustered that she'd been caught. "That's—that's not true, Norah. You know I don't do that—"

"Mom, even when you open the windows, I can still smell it on the towels," she said, sighing as she tucked a lock of stray hair that had fallen loose from her bun behind her ear. Emma's adopted daughter glanced up at met her mother's blue eyes, as though daring her to challenge any other vices. If Emma could smoke, she could drink coffee. That was surely a fair trade-off, right? Surely, it was. Emma didn't have any other vices but cigarettes. To put it bluntly, she didn't have _time_ for any other vices. There were none that Norah had that she knew of, save for the drinking coffee vice occasionally, but that was good. She would much rather her and Clive's adopted daughter partake in an occasional cup or two of black coffee than drugs or crack or something horrible. The truth was, Emma Jameson did not know her adopted daughter as well as she would have liked to, and to state that Norah did not have any other vices when any kind of conviction would be dishonest when she herself did not know, and that, she, like everyone else in London, would be making an assumption when they first met her: Straight A's, and she was pretty. Wasn't dating anyone, but Emma blamed that on those books. A young woman destined for great things her daughter was. She knew better than most the consequences of falling off the straight and narrow path. Emma sighed, pouring another cup of coffee and studying Norah's face. She looked as though she'd only gotten two, maybe three hours of sleep. "What's on the unit for today?" she asked, making small talk.

"History test," came Norah's curt reply. "The revolution of 1848, and London's part in it, and—what's the matter?"

"Oh, just having a little flashback of why I got a C in history," Emma joked, standing and heading towards the coffee pot to make a fresh batch for Clive when he would get home from his third night shift. "Have you had breakfast yet this morning, Norah?" she asked.

"Coffee," answered Norah, rummaging in her purse for a pen.

"Coffee doesn't count," snapped Emma irately. "You know this!"

"It does when _you're_ in a rush." Norah huffed in frustration.

Emma Jameson bit her lip and glanced at the clock.

She had exactly now twenty minutes to feed herself and daughter and drive across the downtown metropolitan area, including the pit stop to the local donut shop on the way there to pick up a box of the judge's favorites: the box of glazed mini munchkins and a Frappuccino, same as she did every Tuesday. _Shouldn't a twenty-three-year-old girl be able to fend for herself?_ Emma wondered to herself as she weighed the pros and cons of being yet another few minutes behind or taking a moment to ensure her daughter was properly fed before heading off to work for the day. Having finally concluded that the judge could wait a few minutes, she sauntered over to the refrigerator and began pulling out the staples for a healthy breakfast for a young woman: eggs, milk, bacon.

"I still don't get why I have to eat breakfast if you don't," grumbled Norah, but nevertheless she watched as Emma cracked open two eggs into the skillet and laid a couple strips of bacon on it.

"Because you'll be famished by third period and you have to earn the right to ruin your own life," snapped Emma, though her blue eyes twinkled playfully as she glanced to the side at Norah's expression.

"I don't have to call the fire department this time, do I?" she mumbled, taking the strips of bacon from Emma's hand, laying them almost obsessive compulsively neat next to the pile of scrambled eggs.

"Relax," joked Emma weakly. "I can do this without the firemen."

"Riiight," murmured Norah lowly, glancing at their-still ruined microwave. "So, the ah…movie night popcorn was just a one-off?"

The poor microwave had been out of commission now for two weeks, blackened and charred beyond recognition. Emma and Clive had yet to replace this one, though that was coming soon. _Very_ soon.

"Yup," her mother agreed, giving a curt little nod of her head. She washed her hand on a dishtowel hanging on the stove's rack and grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder and checking the clasps of her simple silver stud diamond earrings. "Promise me you'll finish that?" she asked, gesturing with her eyes to the breakfast plate.

Norah lifted her chin to meet her mother's gaze. "I promise."

"Good. Then I'm headed out. Have a good day, sweetheart."

Emma glanced around their kitchen, satisfied that she had played her part of mother to the best of her abilities this dreary Tuesday morning given her immense time constraints, and grabbed her travel mug of coffee, giving one last wave to Norah out the door as she fled the kitchen. By the time she backed her car out of the garage, her mind was already on the number of arraignments to stuff onto the judge's docket, and the motions that would have undoubtedly fallen like shadows across the judge's desk between Friday afternoon and now. Emma Jameson was so caught up in her own world, absorbed in a world far from home, where at that very moment while she was five minutes away from their driveway and preoccupied, not thinking about her family right now, Norah Jameson stood up and scraped her breakfast plate into the trash can without ever taking a single bite of her food.

* * *

In a town the size of London, more towards the suburbs, everyone knew everyone else, and always had. It had been this way for as long as Norah could remember. In many ways, it was a comfort, like an extended family that you sometimes loved and sometimes fell out of favor with. Other times, it haunted you. Like right now, when she was standing in the university's cafeteria line behind Natalie Henderson, a dyke of the first order, who, had rather unceremoniously announced to Norah Jameson that she had been harboring a crush on her for the last five years of their friendship, and, much to Norah's embarrassment, was willing to wait for her, for as long as it took her to come around, despite Norah's repeated attempts that no matter what Natalie did, she would not feel the same way for her as Natalie felt for Norah. But still, she stupidly waited.

The teasing it had prompted was endless. And yet, they were fringe friends by default because no one else would have the two. Today's adventure for one of their classes consisted debunking a myth. It could be anything, local or otherwise. Norah had the best one out of all the others. Still, even as she looked at Natalie, at her buzz cut and ever present DSLR camera, she could not help but think of the very public declaration of her best friend's feelings for her without feeling incredibly guilty, but she quickly brushed it off, swiping a French Fry out of the to-go cardboard box.

It was, as her mother had predicted, past third period, past one o'clock in the afternoon and she was famished. Norah wished she would have eaten the breakfast earlier, though she'd never admit that out loud to Emma or she'd have a field day.

A group of kids had been talking about some homeless old man wandering the far end of the canal. A wizard, or so Norah heard. The kids had been young, twelve, thirteen, but enough rumors had circulated about the fellow that Norah thought it warranted debunking for their assignment to turn into Mr. Clarke on Friday. He's got twelve toes—he can talk to worms and spiders-he's eight feet tall and walks around naked with his thing flopping around—he chased John Richards into the Barrens yesterday and that's how he died, tripping over his sneakers and getting full of buckshot by hunters who weren't paying attention, his face and head splitting—The vivid and disgusting image soured the remnants of the coleslaw turkey sandwich resting inside Norah's stomach at the idea. Natalie grabbed onto her arm, yelling excitedly, dragging Norah from their usual quarter of a mile hike from the campus to the neighborhood.

"No-No, c'mon, we got to check this out!" she cried.

"No, we don't," Norah muttered, yanking out of Natalie's hand. As reluctant and irritated as she was, Norah Jameson did not turn around. Something deeper inside her than the grain-free turkey told her that Norah should. Something sudden, primal, and howling.

But she wouldn't leave without Natalie. They'd probably get shot too if Natalie decided to head in the direction of the Thames again. Out by the thicket, further away from the water, Norah spotted a tall, swaying figure in black. She yelped, bumping into Natalie.

And Natalie, goddamn her, approached the man lowering the hood of his jacket. Pasty, puffy features, but still a handsome face. Graying hair. A thin, sallow face with slightly gaunt features. One of his eyes had been blinded. _He certainly isn't much to look at, is he?_ She mused. Her heart raced up into her throat. Norah could feel the sweat drench her skin, the throbbing of her own eyes, the ringing screams vibrating in her ears, and the thumping of her heart against her chest. Norah's fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into her palms. She could not hear her rapid breathing, but she could feel the oxygen flooding in and out of her lungs. Hesitantly, her brown eyes drifted upward, daring to investigate this man who was labeled a monster. Fear tortured her guts, churning her stomach in tense cramps. Fear engulfed her conscience, knocking all other sane thoughts aside. Fear overwhelmed her body, making it drastically exhausted, however, most of all, the fear was making her calm, and that scared her the most, more than anything else.

The calm serenity of it all. The old man was a shriveled toothless creature, feeble and walked with an old walking stick, like Gandalf in _Lord of the Rings_. He looked as though one good puff of wind could blow him down. The man had a hand tremor and constant waggling and bobbing of the head. The old man's deep wrinkles seemed to carve a map of his life on his still agile and mobile facial features. His eyes were framed by thick white eyebrows and his stubbled chin had white whiskers. Norah's first thought was if he were to be taken to a salon for a proper haircut, a good shave, and bought a suit, he'd be handsome. "This cannot be fucking happening right now," she swore. Norah could only watch in disbelief, wide-eyed and horrified as Natalie spoke to the man. Natalie's voice carried underneath the bellowing water. And then, she motioned for Norah to join them. _Don't be a wimp_ , her inner voice complained. _You can do this_. Norah steeled herself, walking forward with her head stiffened and held high. He was not as tall or ugly or as warlock-y as Norah assumed. Plenty of wrinkles, a couple scars, no warts or beard.

The young brunette was too distracted to notice the sewing needle, up until it pricked the tip of her finger, causing it to bleed crimson. "WHAT THE FUCK?" Norah yelled out, jerking away from the warlock's iron-hand grasp, nearly hyperventilating as blood droplets continued to well out of her thumb and drop to the ground.

"Norah, relax!" Natalie yelled over her, but grin-laughing and cradling her own bleeding thumb, reaching up to suck the wound. "It's the payment. The bleeding's going to stop, so just calm down!"

"You didn't say he was going to take my _blood_ , Nat!" she bellowed. Her vision spun for a moment, as Norah wheezed and gasped for air that simply was not there. She clenched her eyes shut, bending over herself. Her tongue felt drier than sandpaper and parched. She made a low noise when Natalie's uninjured hand cupped the back of Norah's neck, squeezing down gently but firmly.

"Three questions." To everyone's relief, Norah missed when the old geezer hungrily licked the blood from the needle. "Only three."

Natalie glanced over to Norah, brows furrowed. "For her and for me? Each of us?" She wanted clarification and they need it now.

"Three."

"Oh, this is bullshit," Norah snapped, teeth gritted as she hissed in pain, still clutching her injured hand. She glared outright at the old man underneath the canal, and then down at her poor thumb. It's not her thumb's fault. _God, oh, God_. She hoped that stupid sewing needle wasn't covered in bacteria. She didn't want to die yet. Not this young, not in this complete shithole of a useless town. It felt like Norah had said this before, but here was the bizarre part. She could not ever remember why or when she had said the thing.

"Am I going to be rich and famous?" Natalie blurted out happily.

"She will," the old man said in a reedy voice, looking directly at a still-glowering Norah Jameson, who was presently sucking her wounded finger, trying to stop the bleeding, wishing she had a Band Aid. "By those she associates herself with," came his sultry answer.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means as it means." The old man absently began to preen his nails. Nails, which Norah noticed, were covered in dirt and grime.

Natalie frowned at him, her upper lip curling. "Jesus God—stop asking him dumb questions already, and let's just go," Norah moaned, running a sweat-slickened, trembling hand through her hair.

But, like always, Natalie never wanted to listen to a head of sense.

"Who am I getting married to?" Natalie asked, trying yet again.

The old man under the canal examined Natalie's sunburnt, desperate countenance for a long time before finally answering her.

"You will not marry," he declared with the same reedy, apathetic tone, breaking the silence. Norah went between watching Natalie and him as he clutched onto his dark, tattered trench coat, tightening it around himself. And for some reason—some fucking reason she didn't quite understand—they still had not left yet. Norah was getting bad vibes about all of this and wanted nothing more than to leave.

"Why not?" Natalie insisted, her fists bunching up as she glared.

"Nat, I swear to God, we have to get out of here right now—"

"She does not want you," the man interrupted, his clearwater blue eyes squinting in malicious intent. "She does not want you in the way you want her, little girl, so you'd do best to move away from her."

"What the fuck?" Norah shook her head, her lip twisting downward in a slight grimace. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"I speak of the one left from an unfinished portrait. Her _love_."

All the color drained from Natalie's already pale face. She went from infuriated, into shock, into ebbing into an obviously forced smile. "This is stupid," Natalie Henderson, president of the photography club, announced, much to Norah's confusion, keeping her eyes on her. "You're right. Let's get out of here, Norah. Head back to class."

"One," he said, pointing to Norah. Natalie had turned away and was heading back towards Canal Street, climbing up the hill toward the old Fredrickson house, calling and repeating Norah's name after her. The words left Norah's mouth without her express permission.

"Wait," Norah whispered, digging into her bag and pulling out slightly smushed but still good other half of her tuna sandwich Emma had undoubtedly slipped into her purse this morning before she left.

The old man stared. "Take it," she urged. "I don't want it. You look like you haven't eaten in days, maybe weeks. Take it."

"You are very kind to this old man, pet," the old man warbled, cocking his head to the side and regarding her, much like a dog would whenever it found something curious and didn't know whether to chase it or let it be. "You may ask this old man a question, and he will answer as best he can."

"I don't—did you just refer to yourself in the third person?" Shaking her head, dumbfounded, Norah shook her head to try to clear it. "Never mind. I want to leave London. I don't want be here anymore, and I never want to come back," Norah breathed out shakily, transfixed by the slow, winding circle the man's spindly, bejeweled finger made. "I just want to know when that will be, and if I'll ever not feel alone in this world…sir."

"Soon." At his words, relief overcame her, and Norah snapped out of her haze, blinking, as the old man without so much as another word, thrust an ancient, musty smelling old book with a red, worn, leather-bound cover into her arms and continued his prophecy.

"What's this for?" Norah demanded, her fear surfacing in the form of her all-too familiar temper, that hot fire spark of rage.

"For being so kind to an old codger like me," he grinned. "This book is very special. Some might even call it magical. Now, repayment for this delectable looking, ah, what did you call it? A… _sandwich_. Well, no matter. It looks wonderful. Would you like your fortune told? It's the very least I can do for you, pretty thing."

"What do you mean?" Norah whispered, her voice cracking a little. "Tell me. Please," she added, as if to placate the old man.

"But not forever," the old man informed her. "You were born here, and so you shall die here the same." Norah's brain felt like it was shutting down as she clenched her eyes shut as they leaked hot, gushing tears. "You shall die here in the arms of your lover, cold and mangled, bleeding out, left to rot!" he shouted, his pale fingers reaching for Norah's neck. "Rotting, corpse blackened—"

"LET GO OF HER, YOU BASTARD!" A rock sailed in the air, hitting the old man squarely on the ear. He screamed a high-pitched, horrible warbling noise, unable to dodge the second, much bigger rock hitting his cheek, leaving a huge red welt, bleeding in its wake. Norah heard Natalie's voice and felt warm, clammy hands on hers, tugging her back up the hill, the mysterious book still clutched in her hands. Norah's legs began working again, pumping, and they were full speed running back towards the park, towards home.

Natalie glanced around frantically, seeing only the empty playground. They were alone. No help was coming for the women. "Fuck!" she cried out. "Fucking shit. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" Pain throbbed within Norah's gut, as she gulped and whimpered, breathing erratically.

"No-No. Look at me, Nor." Natalie clasped onto Norah's shoulders, finally getting the young brunette's attention.

"We—we are not going back there, Nat!" Norah bellowed angrily.

She talked soft and steady to her best friend, never once cracking a joke.

"Nor, look at me. I'm right here. It's over. You understand?" It's not. Norah knew that it wasn't, and she will know it deep down as it fades and howls. Even when she would one day move. She would not be able to forget today's events, not ever. The fear sat quietly, eroding the person Norah Jameson was born to be. What started as a contortion of her stomach became a feeling of being smothered by an invisible hand. Her breathing became erratic, deep, then shallow. She fought it, every step of the way until she was home. Norah fought the feeling as her body writhed to be free or shut down entirely. Each time this happened to her, a part of her got stronger, learning how to cope, while another part of her weakened. To recover, this new version of fear needed a name, and Norah crowned it fear of failure. Against it, she pitted the fear of never trying, of failing through cowardice. This was how she kept going. Why others in her family thought her brave. She wasn't. She just knew how to push through fear better than the others, make forwards less painful than hiding in the shadow. "But why give me this book? What on earth for?"

One quick look around their home told her Emma and Clive weren't home yet, and probably wouldn't be for at least an hour. _Plenty of time to start the story_ , she thought, curious but hesitant. The book the crazy old man had thrust upon her with no explanation given to her was several hundred white pages, each gentle to the fingertips. Upon them was the wisdom of the author's soul; those feelings of love and art channeled through a wonderful story. Intrigued, Norah cracked open the story and began to read, already enraptured by the first few lines…

_"_ _Hello…"_ The book started writing, the book's first few pages were blank. _"I've been watching you, Miss Jameson. Protecting you."_

"Huh?" squeaked Norah, hardly daring to believe it. "What…?"

_"_ _You might want to stand back,"_ the book's pages scrawled…

Norah could hardly believe her eyes. The book was writing—talking to her almost, of its own accord. "What?" she squeaked. "No way!" _Oh, yes way_ , her voice offered _._

_Maybe that old man today was right. This book really could be magic. What the hell is happening?_ Somehow, the book was scrawling a message to her in huge black letters. HELP ME. Norah froze. "What the hell?" she whispered. _You're imagining it. You've been reading it far too long. Put it away, give your brain a rest_ , the rational side of her mind advised. For once, deciding she needed to listen to that little voice in her head, Norah thought it in her best interest to snap the book closed shut and stuffed it back into her purse. She'd look at it again later. _Much later_ , her voice added. _When you're not sleep deprived_.

"Yeah, or losing my mind," she grumbled darkly to herself. She knew that she was not like most young women her age. Norah was not interested in dating men (though she'd had plenty of opportunities) or lip gloss or fashion all that much, much to Emma's disdain. She would much rather be curled up at home in the living room on the sofa with a fluffy pillow, an afghan blanket, and a book. Norah was proud to admit that she was developing her first ever crush on a guy, but the bad part. He didn't exist, at least, not here. Only in the story, and she was only about a hundred pages in. But God, she wished that Wes did. A crush was nothing more than a lust for someone, this she knew. But it did not change anything in her eyes. Wes was still there in her mind. She was surprised at how much time had passed.

A quick glance at the alarm clock on her dresser told her that an hour and a half had passed since she'd returned home and barricaded herself in her room. He was there in her mind, the classic hero. The words on the page burned her eyes like she'd been staring at the sun for too long. This new man was her crush, but he would never be hers, not ever. That much she knew. Norah huffed in frustration, resting her hands behind her head and collapsing on her bed, staring up at her ceiling fan spinning lazily, counting the turns. Being different was not necessarily a bad thing for Norah. It was the ridicule that came along with not following the social conduct of their small town of London, England. There was no justice for the creative. No haven for the weak in this city. It sucked to be one's self, especially if that self always stood outside watching parties, was never offered an umbrella for when it rained, or even frozen during a bonfire. That self could not join in with the crowd and Norah Jameson never would partake in it.

She had been born with a penchant for shyness, and that shyness only worsened following her father's murder. As soon as she moved, the rumor mill swirled, how violent and dangerous Norah really was. As a result, the only person who would be her friend was Natalie Henderson, and she harbored the rather unfortunate, unrequited crush. Mostly, when she wasn't reading, in her free time, Norah wrote stories with environmental or animal welfare themes and she took care of the little whippet she had begged Clive and Emma to rescue. Norah had never noticed until she turned twenty just how isolated she really was.

Even the other young women that _did_ give her the time of day weren't her friends. She never got asked to join them at the mall on weekends, or out for pizza to discuss their boyfriends. She was changing fast, emotionally and physically as she continued to grow into her beauty. Oh, she had Natalie to talk and giggle with, but when she imagined herself starting more conversation, she soon hit a roadblock. What would she discuss? She hadn't a clue about fashion, although she was regularly the guinea pig during her and Emma's shopping excursions. She didn't know anything about celebrity gossip or makeup, and Norah was often afraid she would stumble on her words. She was an outcast in the entire city of London, England.

Norah was able to learn from her father a little of her mother before she had left her father alone when Norah was only six. Of her memory of her mother, her mind was foggy, but according to her father, Norah was a spitting image of Renee. As Norah grew into her beauty, by the time she was twenty, her face shone in the watery sunlight. It burst in beams through the almost complete cloud layer above to cast transitory spotlights. Her features were typical of her fellow kin in the district across the ocean channel but here they marked her out as a stranger. Her dark hair and pale features, considered beautiful back home, were alarming to these creatures who had lived in the sunlight climes for so long that their skin now matched the yellow of the corns and the browns of the dried, dead grass in the summertime's here during the season's changing.

Their eyes were smaller than hers and the mouths meaner, thinner lipped and often elongated. But they had the clothing she needed to get into the mountains during her excursion with Emma and Clive this long three-day weekend, to visit the fabled cabin in the woods he had talked to her so much about, where he and Emma had had their first date and talked until the sun rose over the tree tops, and so she ventured into a store to make the purchases, consciously bringing forth the charm that came to her without even trying for it.

"Ugh, hello, Levi," she mumbled weakly, wincing as the bell dinger above the sporting goods store tinkled, announcing her arrival to everyone. Her fellow coworker over at the clothing boutique, was lingering in the aisle that carried fishing and tackle boxes. "Levi?"

Her coworker, upon hearing her voice, looked up and smiled. Norah quickly looked away from the handsome young man's gaze.

She knew what Levi saw when he looked at her. Just another girl, another intended notch on his belt to add to his infamous list of women he'd managed to seduce. But she would not be one of those.

Unfortunately, Levi was a young man who liked a challenge. He liked it. There was a warmth Norah's brown hair brought to her features, a simple frame for her smile and eyes that held more love than she would ever openly admit. The hue altered as the strands curled and moved, as free as autumn leaves playing in the daylight's rays. Norah Jameson's eyes were the type of brown that was like a sweet chocolate. The type of chocolate that melts at the slightest bit of heat from love, or happiness, what little of that she had in her mundane life. But that chocolate can also grow hard from the cold harsh reality that is apparent in this world. Heartbreak, or the depression that she hid from all those around her so well. In this world, Norah was alone, with very little people she could trust.

The sound of someone speaking, Levi's voice, jolted her out of her absentminded browsing. Clive needed a pack of batteries, and she wanted a new bookmark and to stop by the bookstore before walking home. She'd stopped by Renegade, her job, to pick up her paycheck and cash it by the bank, so she'd have pocket money for her trip with her guardians, one of their rare outings together for once. Their home in town was somewhere remote, for all the visitors that came, which was none. Norah enjoyed her job at the ice cream parlor where she slung ice cream for a living, yet other than that, she was alone. It's odd, because she felt that she was genuinely a good person in this life. Norah felt that she made good choices and love and cared to the best of her ability.

She was quick to love and slow to judge others. She walked the extra mile for strangers, maybe that's what made her odd. Norah would rather be alone and comfortable with who she was than with someone like Levi, who was currently eyeing her figure in her simple pair of black skinny jeans and pink velvet pleat neck top.

She dipped into her purse that she used for traveling, a dark pink rose Ralphany purse, the Riley model, according to Emma, made of nylon on the exterior, the interior lined with polyester. The bag had several zippers and pockets and a flap pocket to hold all her things.

Begrudgingly, she pulled out a single five-dollar bill, slamming it on the counter for the salesclerk as she realized Levi followed her.

"Pack of Double A batteries, please, thanks," she mumbled. Her cheeks flushed pink with color as she felt Levi's gaze drift downward towards her chest and lingered there. "Hey, dingus!" she snapped meanly, snapping her fingers in front of Levi's face. "My eyes are up here, moron." She snatched the pack of batteries from the clerk's hand and grumbled a half-hearted thanks under her breath to the clerk. "Bye, Levi, see you at work next Monday," she groaned darkly.

"Are you busy tonight, Norah?" Levi asked, a note of hope in his voice, as usual. "I—I was thinking, you know, we should—hang out."

"Yeah. No. No way," Norah snapped. _Not again, damn it_. Turning back around, she smiled at Levi in a way that never meant good things, but already his face was flushed and washed with desire for the young brunette. She rolled back her shoulders and her neck once to crack it, observing as his eyes still lingered on her breasts.

Norah tossed her dark hair over her shoulders and shifted her purse to her other arm and looked into Levi's green, mesmerized eyes. "Yes, I am busy tonight, Dingus. And every night following. So, stop asking me out. Besides, we both know you're gay," she snarled, her eyes narrowed, hard and rigid, her head tilted to let her hair dangle in the autumn breeze that wafted in through the open doors of the store's front. She watched as her insulting words hit their mark.

"No. I just know a bitch when I see one." Levi roared with laughter; the momentary spell of tense silence broken at his comeback. The tension in the store was unbelievable between them.

"You—you're ugly, anyways, Levi!" she hissed, turning to leave.

"Better out than in, isn't that what they say?" Levi chuckled.

"Piss off with that, Dingus. I will never date you," Norah yelled, flipping her coworker the bird, not caring if the store manager overheard their argument, since she was leaving anyways.

Norah would rather be alone and comfortable with who she was than warp into someone else, just to please a man, like so many other girls she had witnessed do time and time again, only to have their hearts broken. That was never going to be her in a million years.

She had her brain, she could think for herself, and that she would always keep, no matter what, alone or in the company of other people. Norah hurried out of the store before Levi could call after her to ask her for a date for what had to be the twelfth time, at least.

Norah would be seeing him again at work soon enough.

_No way in hell will I ever date that prick, no matter what Emma and Clive say_ , she thought, slamming the door behind her. As she walked, with each stride, her mind became clearer, more resolute, as if the growing physical distance between her and Levi had now become an emotional chasm. As the nascent sunlight caressed her skin, promising a new dawn, a new beginning, she entombed her memories of him in thick walled ice. Then, abruptly pausing to close her eyes and take in a deep breath of dewy air, she steeled herself to only think of her future from here on in. A future she would mold, build, direct. Then with each stride after that she felt more in charge, in command of her own mind, body and soul. She was a girl walking into her own destiny, a destiny that lay squarely in her own hands.

This weekend, she would have three lovely days to read her book.

Reading for Norah Jameson was like an escape from reality for her. When she picked up a book and started reading, she would get so engrossed and sucked into the story that she forgot any of her surroundings. Her imagination would take over, and she was free to fantasize about whatever without worrying if people judged her for it. It's like she could create a little world in her mind and imagine what the characters would look like and how she thought they acted.

It's crazy to her how much something as causal as reading could leave such an impact on her. Unable to repress the huge grin on her face, she dipped into her favorite purse that Emma gave her one year for her birthday that she'd found on a clearance rack, just big enough to hold the essentials: her little burgundy bi-fold wallet, a Chapstick, a mini hairbrush, a pen for receipts, and of course, books. Norah pulled out the book, tracing the cover with her fingertips. The book was a simple earthy red hued cover, warming to the eyes, comforting. After all these years it was soft to the touch and the edges had a similar look to some beloved teddy bear once upon a time in another life, before Norah had been gifted this strange book. Inside the pages looked as if they had bathed in golden rays and taken them in, so softly golden were they. And the letters took their places as if by a composer's hand, one who was more accustomed to the sweeter notes of beauty. Norah found it odd that the book had no title.

Not on the cover, or the spine. "Odd," she whispered. "No author name either. It's like the author doesn't want to be found, but…"

This particular book in general, more so than any others she'd read in the past, had a vice-like grip on young Norah's mind, its twisted reality began to distort her own at times, challenging the once mundane facts of her existence, bringing her into a new turbulent realm where even her own sense of self was up for grabs and taking. All she wanted was to hurry home and squeeze in an hour or two of reading before Clive would catch her and tell her to stop for tonight.

Growing up for Norah had been such a baptism of fire.

She always asked, "Why?" and never shied from possible answers. Norah knew the truth would be out there somewhere, the real reason why her father had abandoned her. Clive warned her frequently to give it up, but she just couldn't. She never expected the truth would be cozy, but she had a demand for it just the same.

There was still more she needed to know, but her mind was so full, it was overflowing, and that was where her reading escape came in. Part of growing up was forgiving and being able to move on.

Bitterness, according to Clive, only hinders, never helps you.

She learned to accept the flaws of those she held dear (only Cliff and Emma, and maybe her only friend in this life, Natalie), and suffered the agony of releasing those people in her life incapable of controlling their negative urges and narcissism. The way they shunned her for reading. Reading was her cocoon of sorts, her safety net from the real world. Norah could not wish to be a child again, though she knew that to Clive and to so many others in her daily life, that is what she still was to them. Norah was forced to embrace the change and keep walking, never stop growing, never close her mind to new learning and enlightenment. She guessed she could call her troubles 'growing pains,' but she tried her hardest to see them as lessons, painful, yes. Painful but a necessary evil in life.

Now, though, all she wanted was to finish her errands and go home. She needed to see if the written message for an SOS was still there.

"What the hell is happening to me? I'm going crazy…" Norah felt her hands inadvertently dip back into her bag and pull out the book, her fingertips tracing the edges of the red leather cover. "There's no way that was real," she whispered. "Books don't change…do they? No. They don't. Maybe…maybe I can find the author? Yeah. Find the author! They'd know what was happening!"

Her father's voice was calling her. "NORAH EVE JAMESON!"

"Oh, damn," moaned Norah as she glanced at the clock on her phone before slipping it into her back jeans pocket. She was late.

"NOW MEANS NOW, SWEETHEART! PUT IT DOWN!"

Norah stifled a grin as she knew Clive was referring to the book. Sighing reluctantly, she slid the book into the nightstand by her bed and hurtled down the stairs, two at a time so it was faster that way. Emma was already at the stove, tossing a Caesar salad while Clive poked at the pasta with his stirring wooden spoon. The smell of a smoking burner filled Norah's nostrils. Normally, in another house, the fact that someone else was cooking wouldn't have been a cause for alarm, but here, for Norah, it was justifiable cause to panic. The smell of it burning filled Norah's nose. Dumping her purse by the foot of the stairs that led upwards to her bedroom, she bolted into the kitchen. The jar of spaghetti sauce Clive had stuck in their already ruined microwave was only on its first revolution when she yanked it out and surveyed the splattered red sauce everywhere. "Oh, Daddy, what _is_ this?" Norah laughed, looking at the mess.

"What the hell did I do wrong?" Clive demanded, crestfallen.

"You're supposed to take the lid off first, Daddy," Norah sighed, removing the lid, pouring the sauce into a bowl, covered it, fixed the time and power setting on the microwave, and pressed START.

"Metal's bad for microwaves, honey," chirped Emma, as though she knew more about cooking than Clive did, though the salad she was tossing to go along with the pasta and garlic breadsticks for dinner didn't look half-bad. Her adopted parents were proud to have memorized the name of every restaurant and pizza parlor in town that offered free delivery, though they couldn't cook for shit at all.

Clive Jameson grumbled under his breath as he stared at the pot on the stove. "Did I at least get the noodles right?" he asked irately.

"Stirring helps, Daddy," Norah sighed wearily, snatching the wooden spoon out from her father's hands and trying to de-clump the mess of noodles stuck to the pot because he'd forgotten to salt the water. "You want to tell me what all of this is about? Why cooking?"

Clive and Emma exchanged a glance as he folded his arms across his chest, his mustache bristling as he let out a huff of frustration.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Norah," he snapped.

Norah was mystified and could only stare. Her parents _cooking_. They never cooked! Emma was proud to have memorized every name of all the restaurants in London that offered free delivery, and on nights when they didn't eat out due to busy schedules, Norah cooked most of the time, making sure they all had plenty of leftovers.

She didn't know what to say. Emma glanced out of the corner of her eye at their daughter and let out a tired sigh. Her daughter had so many of her traits and none of it was helping their situation right now. It wasn't that she was a bad person or without talent, it's that Norah Jameson wanted so much to be her own person. Given that they were good at the exact same things, only she had more experience, put more rocks in their relationship than neither woman could handle at times. Like now. There were days when Emma's only option was to lie low and offer no resistance, anything not to cause more problems.

Yet there were days when she needed a mother's firm hand, just like when she was a young girl. And so, they veered from one to the other, her leading when she could, being forced to follow when she couldn't. Norah had all the desire to be free, but with so many skills still to learn, and skills Emma believed were being hindered by her almost obsessive, excessive reading. Their daughter was introverted, perhaps a bit too much. Emma knew that Norah would leave them before she was ready, she knew that she would, and those last lessons would be the hardest of all. But like the bird from the nest, sometimes the only way to find out if you could fly was to leap into the unknown and try your best. Emma knew there was something about the shadows that soothed Norah Jameson. Her friends were out at some party tonight, and she loved them dearly—but she needed the calm of their softly hued home.

It was like a haven for her, where Norah's soul rejuvenated.

They'd like her to come, this Emma knew, but they respected her need to stay at home and read her books, potter about making bread and soup with light smooth jazz on the radio. She guessed that made her an introvert, and Emma would be right about her daughter in that regard. Norah liked a drama-free life, good family times, friends, and enough time to be reflective and retreat within her own fantasies.

It was not a long list, but it made Norah happy. Norah felt her mouth purse into a thin line as she salvaged the noodles and pasta, setting to work putting butter and a little garlic seasoning on the breadsticks before popping those into the oven.

_What's with the surly attitude?_ Natalie wasn't here yet, and her parents usually saved the worst of their attitudes for her best friend.

They did their best to reserve their attitude of 'unwelcome' for her. Though there was no need. Natalie Henderson knew what they thought of her without them ever having to a say a word. She just did.

"We can't just have a nice dinner the night before a getaway?" Emma retorted, taking their plates over to the kitchen when the oven beeped, signaling the garlic breadsticks were ready to come out of it.

"Uh, well, n—no, that's not what I meant, Mom, Jeeze, sorry I said anything," Norah mumbled, taking her seat as she helped herself to a hearty helping of slightly crunchy pasta and breadsticks. Dinner with Mom and Dad every night was the same: elbows off the table, sit up straight, chew with your mouth shut, take small bites, make pleasant conversation, don't talk with your mouth full, finish your plates, use your napkin, ask permission to leave the table, help clear the table, sweep the floor, help wash the dishes, and then you can go have your reading time. Dinner seemed to drag on in an endless eternity.

She wanted nothing more than to check out that book as soon as Natalie arrived, which she was due to come over in about fifteen.

Norah found her mind wandering as she dried the last of the dishes. Her parents and teachers called it 'maladaptive daydreaming.'

She said it was creativity. There was a difference in her mind. Maladaptive often lead to decreasing productivity whereas hers lead to an increase. Norah did not just want to visit her fantasy worlds, she wanted to live in them, feel them, taste them, to really, truly live them.

_So why don't they keep their regimented minds with their straight lines and shove them where the sun doesn't shine. I don't care now._

A last-minute text from Natalie told Norah that she wasn't coming.

_Great. Just great. The one person who might have understood…_

Still, her mother might. She tried her mom. Maybe she'd get it.

"Hey, Mom?" Norah called out behind her, finally drying the last dish and putting it away, turning around to find her mom at the kitchen table, engrossed with Clive over an intense game of poker.

"Yeah?" her mother called out, her attention on the card game.

Norah bit her lip, hesitating. "Have you ever…had a book change after you read it so many times? Like you read it and it's just not the same after?" she asked, struggling to formulate her thoughts on this.

"Oh, yeah," Emma spoke up, looking up from her card game. "My sophomore year of college. I read _The Exorcist_. Read it once as a kid and couldn't finish it. Read it again in college and loved it."

"No, that's not what I meant," sighed Norah, actively averting her gaze as she glanced out the window. "That's you changing, not the actual book. I know it sounds nuts, but the—the book I was reading today actually… _changed_ ," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

Emma looked over at her daughter, a look of concern in her eyes.

"I—imagine you read a book a hundred times, and it always takes place in, oh, I don't know, medieval France, and then the next time you read it, it's set in the Wild West. It's going to sound insane…"

"That's ridiculous," Clive barked, finally glancing up from his round of dealing the hand of cards. "Books don't change. You need to get more sleep, Nor, you aren't sleeping enough," he added, his thick brows furrowing into a frown at the bags underneath her eyes.

Norah sighed. She knew it was pointless to bring this up to them.

"No, Mom, Dad, I'm being serious right now! It's _real_!" she protested, but she knew it was no use as they resumed playing.

"Your mind simply saw something that it overlooked before."

Norah frowned. She knew it wasn't something she overlooked. She had been alone for so long that she got used to it by now, she mused to herself as she bid her parents a half-hearted goodnight and grabbed her purse she'd discarded at the foot of the stairs and headed up to change and get ready for bed, but not before making sure she was packed for their trip tomorrow. They were headed to the woods in England for a week, to hike the trails and reconnect with nature as family unit, no work or real-life distractions. What was it like to be alone? If someone were to ask her, Norah could plainly tell them.

It was like being the only planet in a universe full of stars. It's like being in a crowd yet you're closed off in your own little bubble. One is a choice, the other is not. Norah guessed a part of her chooses to be alone for she was afraid of people. Not afraid of them hurting her, but afraid of what they think of her. _I'm a freak. That's what they think of me. I know it is. I can feel their stares. I know what I need. I need someone to save me from this loneliness, to make me feel worthy and loved, worthy of being loved. I can't stand the thought I might always be like this, hidden away in this barren home waiting for time to pass only to find out I'm still alone._ Norah waited until she heard the unmistakable sound of her parents' bedroom door closing (her room was just above theirs) before diving into her oversize king size bed and pulling out the book. "Oooh. Am I really doing this?"

_No. I—I shouldn't. I should go to sleep. But what if—it's real?_

"Time to see if I really am going crazy," she whispered. The bookmark where she'd marked her page was the color of warm sunshine, yet more the sort that ambled through the curtains at the start of the day, something cozy and inviting. Norah hesitated. "No, no more reading for the day. You've had enough," she chastised herself, placing the book gingerly on her bedside table next to her bed. "Dad's right. I'm not getting enough sleep and that's what I saw was a product of a sleep deprived mind. Time to go to bed."

But Norah could only sleep when exhausted. When she felt the tiredness in her chest, in how she breathed and her thoughts dragged by in slow motion, she slunk to a quiet spot and curled up. On good days she'd get three hours, on bad days two. Should she doze later she would wake as soon as sleep came, always as fast as if a gunshot had sounded, heart beating fast and breathing as if she'd just surfaced from deep water. After that it was time to get up, to do something, keep moving... That's when reading also came in handy for Norah. In the four hours she'd been in bed as the time passed, she must have woken up at least six times. Not for that long each time, but enough to break her sleep into un-refreshing chunks. With every disturbance, there was a new nightmare. She was dating Levi; she lost her job. The house was burning, and she couldn't douse the flames. She was running for the bus but it's pulling away already. The car was sliding on black ice. Then her bedroom was light, and her mind was moving faster than her mind could formulate her thoughts, like it was suck on fast forward and the volume was jammed right up to full. Norah wanted to douse her brain in cold water, chill the whole thing right out, but she couldn't. She wanted a coffee, but the caffeine would put her right over the edge. Frustrated, she sat up in her bed and pulled her hair up into a loose bun, glancing at the closed book.

"Don't be a wimp, Nor. It's just a book. What, are you, ten? You're not going to get grounded for reading a goddamn book, you're twenty-three. They won't know a thing," she whispered to herself. "You'll just read one chapter to help you get to sleep tonight, and you'll still be up in time for your hiking trip tomorrow morning, easy, no one's the wiser." Steeling herself and drawing in a sharp breath, she cracked open the book to find to her surprise the HELP ME message from earlier still scrawled there.

"What?" she whispered hoarsely, hating how weak her voice sounded as her fingertip of its own accord traced the edges of the message. "How…?" Shocked, Norah felt her eyes go wide and round as dinner plates as, yet another message began to scrawl onto the pages below the original message. "Stand…back…" whispered Norah, bolting out of her bed and dropping the book onto her tangled mess of bedsheets as though the touch had burned her. "Jesus West!"

The portal continued to grow, swirling golden lights emerging from the pages as the pages began to turn and increase in speed.

"What the hell is happening?" she whisper-hissed, shoving her knuckles into her mouth to keep from screaming as the book on her appeared to be growing larger in size, a huge, gaping black hole opening in the middle of the page. "A—a portal?!" Norah's brain stuttered for a moment, and her eyes took in more light than she expected as the hole continued to grow in size and proportion, every part of her going on pause while her thoughts tried to catch up to what she was witnessing. There was a horrible ringing in her eyes and a blinding white-yellow light that caused poor Norah to lift her hand to shield her eyes from going blind as she tried not to stare directly into the portal, but it was to no avail. She had to know…

Norah inched forward on her tiptoes, lifting the hem of her pink pajama pants from Victoria's Secret as she tried to be quiet. It would not do to wake her parents. She flinched as the floorboard creaked and froze, right as something came flying through her room and landed promptly on top of her, sending her crashing to the floor, her head pounding. She drifted into unconsciousness. And then back out. Her bedroom around her was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of her thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by a hurricane. An unfamiliar tap on her shoulder momentarily brought her back to the outside world, but after a second, she was once again lost.

Somebody's hand was touching her cheek. She swatted it away rather violently. Norah could feel somebody trying to look at her, staring at her dead in the eye, but she could not keep focus. The whole world simply felt low resolution, like a bad quality movie on the telly. She was only vaguely aware of being lifted into someone's arms and gently placed back on the bed. She let out a low murmur in her state of half sleep but did not wake, continuing to dive for the blackness of unconsciousness, willing the horrible pain in her head to go. Her head throbbed and ached. Confusion blossomed in her head, and she knew that sooner or later, she would need to wake up and address whatever the hell just happened, to stare reality in the face. But for now, she lay down her throbbing head, and retreated into the wallowing blackness of a deep, dreamless sleep.

Norah was not aware that Wes watched while she slept…

Her dream ended abruptly, as Norah was shaken back into reality. Her eyes opened, her eyelashes faintly batting against her lids when she blinked. She laid still on her bed, debating whether she should get up or not. Her muscles felt weak, just like her energy, and her head still pounded. Norah let out an exasperated sigh, groaning as she rolled off her bed she'd been occupying. _What time was it? How long had I been out? What the hell was that that happened earlier, did the book really open a portal in my room—_

"You're _fantastic_. Your picture doesn't do you justice, you know."

Norah whirled around and found herself face-to-face with a towering shadow, a man judging by his silhouette. Half-shrouded in the darkness of shadow, his form was resting against her night table, one of Norah's picture frames in his hands, studying it closely. The scream tore through her like a shard of glass. She felt her eyes widen and pulse quicken, her heart thudding like a rock rattling in a box. Her scream came again, terrified, desperate…human. The blood drained from her face and before she was even making a conscious decision, she was backing away towards the furthest corner of her bedroom. It was the kind of scream that made your blood run cold. It pierced Norah's brain and ignited some primeval pathway. Adrenaline surged through her veins, fight or flight, stand or run, be a hero or a coward. As her fingers curled around the handle of a purple glass vase, her decision was made for her. She would fight. As the man stepped forward into the light, Norah felt her eyes widen, wide and round and as large as Emma's dinner plates. The intruder had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous.

His eyes were a mesmerizing deep ocean blue, flecks of silvery light twinkling throughout. The stranger's face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark brows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression. His mouth drawn into a hard line across his face. Perfect lips ripe for kissing, though that was the furthest thing from Norah's mind right now. "What the hell..?"

"Wes," the man said. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and deep. Rich and melodious, the kind of voice a man should have.

Norah shivered, though it wasn't from pleasure. She stared, afraid.

" _Wow_ ," breathed the man who called himself Wes. "By the way, I should mention…you smell great. Perfumes are not for me. No, I respond favorably to the audacity of a woman who flaunts her own aroma. And you, Norah Jameson, smell like lavenders and jasmine." His hands, slightly rough from whatever it was he did for work, held her squarely by the shoulders, preventing her escaping.

"You stay away from me! Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?" she murmured, wildly glancing around the room to search for something—anything—she could use for a weapon to defend herself. She didn't see any sign of broken windows. No forced open locks. However, he'd gotten in was almost like…like… _magic_.

The dark-haired stranger, who looked like he'd just come from some sort of theater production, was dressed in a set of black robes, like something from one of those medieval dinner shows. Shakespeare in the Park, maybe, pointed towards the book on Norah's bed. "Beautiful eyes, beautiful teeth. All the right stuff in all the right places. I knew you'd be special, love. No doubt about it. You're the one. I know this is going to come kind of out of the blue, but how about a date?" Norah had never punched anyone before, so she was surprised at the pain that blazed up her arm as her fist connected with his jawline. She wrenched open her bedroom door and bolted down the hallway towards their den like an Olympic champion at the start gun, the vase still clutched in her hand. Desperately searching for something, she found it at last.

"The broom!" she whispered. " _Yes_!"

Norah could hear the young man's voice coming closer.

"You know, now that I've seen you, I'm never going back home ever again, there's no question on it," he called out almost casually, as if what he was doing, breaking and entering their home the most natural thing in the world. "You, love, were worth chasing, I think. I've been following your scent for a long time, love. One of these days, I'll stop chasing you…but only if you let me take you on a date. As for you, sweetheart, well, we started badly, but I take all the blame for that," he said quietly. Norah's eyes drifted down to his clothes.

Dressed in a simple black shirt and pants with gold trim at the edges, this young man certainly did look like a prince or some Shakespearean actor, like he'd just come from a Renaissance Faire.

Her gaze lingered on a brown long wand sheathed around his waist. This stranger brought a fucking fake wand into her _house_? No way! He noticed her admiring it and unsheathed it, watching as the moonlight streaming in from the window cast a strange, pearly glow on the weapon. The young woman was quick to pry the piece of wood from the intruder's fingers and whipped around to clash with the man, the broom her only source of defense. It wouldn't end well, this fight. "MUM! DAD!" Norah bellowed at the top of her lungs.

Silence. "Goddamn it," she muttered darkly through gritted teeth. Norah eyed the strange looking piece of wood in the man's hand. "What are you gonna do with that?" she taunted. "Turn me into a rabbit?" she jeered, still holding the broom out in front of her.

The handsome stranger let out a dark little chuckle. "Maybe. If you don't stop making such a fuss, I just might, sweetheart. Since we're getting to know each other like this, I might as well get the big reveal out of the way. I'm a wizard."

The sincerity in the stranger's voice was genuine, but that did not stop the laugh from escaping from Norah's lips. She held the broom's pole even, a perfect, undaunted horizon, always leveled with the nose, just as her father had taught her once. Norah had stalled the man's strike but watched as the strange man who called himself Wes, just like the hero in one of her favorites, _The Princess Bride_. Well, that wasn't his real name, no, but Norah preferred to call the main hero Wes for short, smiled a bemused little half-smirk, like he was testing the last of her patience. The broom shivered under the brutality of his compelling strength. "Weapons do not belong in the hands of a woman," the handsome stranger throatily crooned, pressing it closer to her face.

The tip of the wand flashed with a bright light as he brought the stick up to his face and stalled her strike, sending her crashing to the floor. He smirked and knelt to her. "Normally…I prefer to do other enjoyable activities…with a woman on her back…" The intruder smirked, flashing her a smile.

"DAAAD!" Norah screamed, her face draining of color. She flinched underneath his weight as her screams were lost beneath the thunder that rolled overhead. The sky was so low that even inside the safety of Emma and Clive's house, she was claustrophobic. Norah screamed again for her parents, shrill but loud, anything to pierce the thick air. She called again; her words clipped by an oppressive boom.

"Are you afraid of thunder and lightning?" The strange man asked her, shifting slightly so she wasn't crushed underneath his weight.

The fact that she was trembling underneath him and flinched away from his touch ought to have been enough. Norah clenched her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, turning her head away sharply when she felt one of his fingertips graze down her neck and collarbones.

"You grew up without relying on anyone else, didn't you?" he asked softly. Norah's eyes shot open. "I know that look. I've seen it myself, several times in the mirror," the man called Wes offered softly. "But not anymore. You don't have to be afraid, milady…"

Norah drew in a sharp breath and held it, daring to meet his gaze.

Wes—if that even was his real name—his eyes were the ocean, so full of life yet so uncertain. The blue-green hue carried his emotional currents, and before Norah could breathe, she drowned.

It had been too dark before to get a good look at his eyes before, but his eyes were seriously blue. Almost sickeningly blue—full on Prince Charming, field of cornflower, perfect, cloudless sky blue.

"Someone should name a crayon after you, guy," she muttered.

Another crack of thunder rent the air and Norah let out a tiny squeak of terror and brought her hands up to her ears, not wanting to listen to anymore. Ever since she was little, she'd been afraid of thunder and lightning. It was when her father would come for her.

During the storms, to muffle out the noises of what he did to her.

Sensing her discomfort, the man in the black shirt paused, hesitated and seemed to wage an internal conflict within his own mind, before deciding at last to help her. "Here," he said urgently, withdrawing from one of his pockets something that looked like a torn strip of linen fabric. "Don't move. Be very still," he ordered. She did so, thinking it would do her no good at this time to fight against him as she would lose. He was faster and stronger than she was, and he had the upper hand and the high ground right now.

"The—the blindfold will prevent you seeing the storm outside."

The knock on the closed den door came quietly and then there was silence. The knock was louder and faster this time. Wes froze, and Norah glanced up at the man currently pinning her down on the floor. He was staring at the door, rigid and un-moving, like a deer caught in a car's headlights, unsure if he should bolt or not.

"Hey, Nor? We're coming in." A voice came from the other side, but Norah could only let out a tiny squeak of fear in response to that.

Someone—probably Clive, if Norah had to guess, on the other side was furious now and knocked on the door with all his strength.

Clive flung the door open, Emma trailing close behind and froze.

"Oh," he said quietly, not sure what to make of the scene in front of them. After all, it wasn't every day their daughter had a man over.

He saw his daughter pinned down, forcibly being held by some strange boy, or so it appeared. Clive took a deep, shuddering breath.

"We seem to have come across a little _pest_ , Emma," Clive growled, advancing so fast to wrench the stranger off Norah with surprising speed he was almost a blur. "What should we do with him?" he snarled, his face only inches from the dark-haired boy's.

"You nasty pervert," snapped Emma, glancing at the blindfold the young man had placed around her daughter's eyes. "What kind of foreplay is that? Never pegged the guys these days to be into S&M, Clive. You better watch your back, Norah. I never would have pegged the guys you'd be interested in to be interested in this kind of shit."

"NO! It's not like that! It's not what you think!" Wes yelled.

Emma and Clive shared a dark glance. "What should we do?"

"Cops," wheezed Norah, gasping and panting for breath that wasn't there as she sat up and wrenched the blindfold off. "This—this creep broke into my room! I—I don't know how, but he was in my room, you guys!" she screamed, tears blurring and stinging her vision.

"That does it," growled Clive in a lowly voice, dragging the dark-haired stranger by the scruff of his shirt. "Me and Shakespeare here are gonna go downstairs. I'll call the police. Emma, stay here."

Never one to follow orders, both women ventured downstairs with the men and waited for the cops to arrive, sitting on the front stoop.

After about twenty minutes of waiting, the women flinching every so often as Clive's shouts would linger in the air in the kitchen, a police car came screeching down the road, a knight in his white charger, black tires squealing on the gray as he skidded to a stop.

The cop's car was as subtle as a freshly popped zit and just as welcome. It sat squat to the rain-washed tarmac, its black paint sun-bleached with age. If this wasn't such a bad time, Norah would admire it as a classic, talk football with the officer, maybe. Not today.

When the officer came, he had all the usual height but without the bulk. He had to be pushing forty-two, yet he had the build of a teenager, lithe muscle underneath his crisp uniform. He had the face of a father, one who understood Norah's pain and fears of burglars.

Though he spoke of the law as he questioned Norah and took down her statement, there was a softness, a tone to reassure he was on her side. "We'll handle this one, ladies," he muttered darkly.

Norah let her eyes fall to the ground as the cop, with the help of Clive, escorted the stranger who had broken into Norah's bedroom towards the back of the car. The man who called himself Wes said nothing as his gaze met Norah's, rendering her speechless.

Despite scaring the crap out of her, Norah could not help but feel just a twinge of sympathy for the last soul in the back of the car. She briefly let her mind drift back to the book that lay in her night table.

"Could that have really happened?" she whispered, horrified.

Emma shot her a quizzical look but said nothing. Norah felt lost and confused, but also certain and…and…strangely…happy. For the first time in a long time. She felt like a ball of tangled yarn. The parts that were untangled were available, useable, the rest an utter mess, useless until it was untied. The mess felt endless and unyielding.

And yet…this strange man, Wes, had somehow untied one of her knots just now, though how he had done it, she did not know.

Norah decided not to press charges, she told the officer, and she would pay him a visit tomorrow. The look of relief in the blue-eyed, dark-haired handsome stranger's face was almost too much to bear.

It was the look in his eyes that did it, that caused her to change her mind and decide to help this man. That familiar look of being lost.

Norah had been lost for quite some time, it's what she was used to, kind of like a person who got used to being beat up, she guessed.

It wasn't like that, quite the opposite. Being lost and alone sucked.

There was nothing lonelier, nothing that brought more desolation to her soul than to be alone for another day in dreary London.

As she looked into Wes's eyes from his spot in the back of the squad car, she knew she would never stop looking, never letting that small spark of hope, like the one she saw in his eyes now, become extinguished. Someone as good as him didn't disappear.

Norah could tell by his eyes that he wasn't a bad soul. Just horribly misguided, and tomorrow, following his release, she would set him straight. "C'mon, Mom," she mumbled, rising to her feet, helping her mother to her feet as they watched the cop drive away, prisoner in tow. "Let's go back to bed. I—I'm so sorry for all that, I—I don't…"

Her mother sighed, tucking a lock of copper hair behind her ear and folded her arms across her chest as they made their way back inside the house. "I'm glad you called us. Who knows what he would have done? Though, I will admit, he IS quite the looker, wasn't he?"

Norah felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she risked one last glance out the living room window, as the cop car's silhouette faded into darkness. "Yes," she whispered, though by this point her mother and father had retreated to the safety of their own bedroom. "He is."

As she climbed the stairwell to her bedroom, Norah did not stop the small smile from twitching and forming at the corners of her lips.

She knew she would be seeing Wes again tomorrow morning.

* * *

The daunting prison to Wes as the police officer, as he called himself, Officer Owens, led him into the holding cell, exuded a sort of intimidating aura as he was shoved rather violently into the cage. The building was now illuminated by the fully risen sun as light flowed over the newly awakened city of London, England. The cool hues from before had now faded to a more warm and bright color. It was strange how the small village could still look so formidable in this light. A certain uneasiness filled his chest. He rose a shaking hand to one of his tired eyes and rubbed slowly over the rough surface of his skin. That certainly wasn't how he intended to impress the beautiful young woman. "Norah Jameson," he whispered softly. "I knew I was right to like you, sweetheart."

"Don't want to mess with _that_ one, boy," Officer Owens piped up from outside the cage. "She's a troublemaker. Killed her daddy."

Wes frowned as he glared at the soldier, who was sitting in a chair near a desk, his legs crossed and feet propped up on the desk, his hands behind his head as he regarded their new convict.

"I don't believe you," he snarled through gritted teeth. "She—"

Mac Owens snorted and rolled his eyes, opening the cage to his cell and tossing a packet of papers at Wes's chest. "Read the police report for yourself. That Jameson girl killed her daddy in cold blood. You don't believe me, read it for yourself. Stay away from her if you know what's good for you and you fancy your dick still attached," he snorted, a lit cigarette clamped between his teeth. Officer Owens was the very epitome of authority with his gun hanging idly at his hip, the world outside reflected in his over-large sunglasses. It was never the money for him, he explained on the ride over to the station to make small talk with Wes and get him talking. Mac Owens had signed up to protect and serve, maybe he was old fashioned that way, but he believed in public service. The cop saw the worst of humanity daily, and it tested his resolve every day. It tested his faith in the goodness of the people of London and his natural optimism. He was there when the fire crews cut lifeless teens from the mangled wrecks of their birthday presents when they turned seventeen years old.

Officer Owens was there when a bleeding wife refused to press charges. He was there when the street walkers were released back to the same abused and drug-addled lives. At that thought, he frowned, regarding their newest inmate in the twenty-four-hour holding cell, unless someone came to get him out, of course. Officer Owens didn't think the young man was on drugs, but then again, he'd seen some strange things in his time. But for all the bad he witnessed, he also witnessed firefighters rush into burning buildings, he saw the paramedics pulling miracles from thin air, he saw the emergency nurses with their quick hands and the doctors who took charge of situations most would run from. He was proud to be a police officer of London. He was proud of his unit, his boys. He was, for lack of a better term, the very salt of the earth. He loved his job.

Wes frowned, his fingertips tracing the edges of the strange looking document. He didn't believe these falsehoods of her.

Nevertheless, his brow furrowed, he began to read the report…

* * *

In Norah's nights, her father, Alvin, known to his buddies down at the factory simply as Al, was a monster, and in her days, he was the same. There were times when the sixteen-year-old couldn't tell the nightmare of her reality from the fiction of her daily nightmares.

Sometimes there were clues that she only caught in retrospect; the house was different, or he seemed to have developed supernatural powers, a sort of sixth sense when it came to Norah Eve Jameson.

It didn't matter to her at all, Al could beat his daughter with all the earthly 'gifts' he had. With nonchalant ease, her father crushed every ounce of self-worth she gleaned, failing to disguise how delighted he was to deal his favorite blows to her cheeks, and the rest of her face.

How they were like candy to him, irresistible, and Moorish. He didn't choose his daughter to love or cherish, but to whip and destroy. And all for power and malice that were his drugs of choice. They lit him up inside with a sickly glow that shone in his dark eyes, those languid eyes full of lust, devoid of warmth or feelings.

There were moments Norah's gaze fell on the road that passed their apartment and followed the crackled and dappled gray to the bend in the road where it twisted out of sight. She wondered what might happen if she took a step on it and kept going, never looking back. Her mother had always told her before she left that there was love out there for everyone, and she just assumed her daddy was it.

Alvin Jameson was a bit of a drinker. It's how Norah got her bruises. And, theoretically, her self-induced scars, the ones on her wrists and her feet. But what hurt her the worst was the insecurity. The internal brokenness that only a person exposed to abuse could ever experience. It was like this: those mental scars were a tapering factor in the serenity of their domestic life in Sussex. They caused Norah agony that could only be seen on the inside. The pain that no one else saw because, well, no one else cared to see. Norah was jolted out of her thinking as her father was yelling at her. His hand hit and she fell with the force of it. The first slap, seven years ago, had been the worst. She hadn't expected her father to be so strong, but there was weight and strength enough for it to stun. Though his hand was empty, it was like being hit with a hunk of frozen meat nonetheless, and afterward she would endure Daddy's words of hatred, all spilling from a man that professed so much love in his quiet moments of regret, the way he treated his only daughter. Her daddy was eyeing her figure in her simple light pink midi dress, stroking her hair, tucking a stray strand back that had come loose from her bun. "You know I worry about you, Norah," he whispered softly from his place in his armchair, shrouded in shadow.

Norah froze, her purse dropping from her shoulder onto the table. "I—I know," she whispered, her voice breaking and cracking.

Fear curled up inside her and clung to her ribs, settling uncomfortably in her chest. She didn't doubt the feeling was there to stay, reminding her of its existence every time she opened her mouth to breathe. Pure terror surged through her veins as she was forced to meet her father's gaze, icy daggers straight to Norah Jameson's heart.

The fear she'd felt when her mother first left was nothing compared to how she felt now. Now, underneath her father's scrutinizing gaze, trapped in their apartment with no way out, she felt as if she were being held underwater, gasping for air but not being able to do a damn thing about it. She thought maybe it would be better if she drowned. At least then, the nightmare would be over.

Her father reached out a tender hand and stroked her cheek. Norah flinched, but did not dare wrench away from his grasp.

"If you tell of our little 'games', they'll take me away, lock me up and make me sad, Nor. You love me too much to let that happen, little pumpkin. So, I'll tell you what. You keep our little secret and I'll take you to the ice cream parlor on weekends. You know that I love you right? And if they lock me up, they'll take you away to, to live with strangers who don't know my precious baby girl like I do. I know you don't want that, Norah. So, what'll it be this weekend, chocolate or marble swirl?" Al Jameson fell silent and waited.

Her daddy told Norah he loved her, and found ways to become physically close, chipping away at the emotional layers of protection only so that he could do the same with her clothes. Yet, she was only entertainment to her father, a constant reminder of his wife. She was reminded every day by Al just how much she resembled Mom.

He did not care if she was left a burnt-out wreck at the end.

"You know I worry about you, Norah," Al whispered. "People in town have been saying some things to me about you. Sneaking around all summer long with a bunch of boys, only girl in the pack."

"They're just friends, Daddy, I swear," Norah said quietly.

"I know what's in boys' minds when they look at you, Nor, I know all too well," her father whispered, reaching out a hand for hers, squeezing it tight enough that the pressure was enough to break it.

"My hand, Daddy, it hurts," Norah pleaded, struggling against his grip. "Let go of me!" she begged, tears welling in her eyes, stinging.

But he did not. If anything, his grip tightened. "Are you doing…womanly things, down in the woods with those damn boys?"

"No, Daddy," Norah whispered, her voice cracking and the fear surging its way from her stomach and up into her throat. She tasted bile, but she swallowed it back down and fought the urge to vomit.

"Are you still my little girl?" he demanded hotly.

"No," Norah hissed angrily through gritted teeth.

Her father froze. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft and quiet. "What the hell did you just say to me?"

"I SAID NO!" she screamed, bolting away from Al Jameson. As his bony claw reached out for her, Norah could hear his laugh, a cruel, cold, almost cackle that froze her in her spot and drained all hope, dreams, and feelings from within her, replacing them with a feeling of despair, hopelessness, and most of all, fear. Fear had claws.

Its claws cut through her body and wrapped around her brain. It choked the breath from her lungs and left her body dry heaving as she ran, bolting for the bathroom and locking it behind her, her father's footsteps trailing close behind as he screamed obscenities.

Black mist swirled at the edges of her mind as she looked around the bathroom wildly for something—anything—to use as a weapon.

Finding the toilet seat would have to do, she wrenched it off the appliance and hid behind the shower curtain, waiting with bated breath. The fear drew her into its open arms, and salty tears spilled over onto her cheeks, leaving a tight, dry feeling. Norah screamed as her monster's hand wrapped around her body, and she screamed.

Only she didn't. Norah strained her vocal cords, but not a sound came out. Still, she screamed, hoping someone other than her daddy would hear her and come bursting in and saving her from this hell.

She screamed a primal scream that she knew would haunt her for the rest of her life as she brought down the lid of the toilet seat against the back of her father's skull and watched, rooted to her spot, frozen.

Even the passage of the light streaming in through the bathroom window slowed, and the sounds became as if underwater. Aside from the beating of her own heart, no muscle moved. That pounding inside beat a rhythm to the words of her father's execution, the hard porcelain Al Jameson's judge, jury, and executioner in the end.

His heavily lined, worn face was frozen, eyes open, mouth slack, as he was propelled backward. His eyes held Norah's and in those fractions of seconds, he was there and then gone, the coldness of the ages that had been his 'love' for his 'precious little girl' vanished.

Norah shoved him as he rolled to one side. She'd been trapped under his bulk too many times already. Al groaned and gurgled as he bled out, his skin graying as the light and life force left his eyes.

She was a murderer. Time to run for it…

* * *

As Wes finished the report and tossed the packet of papers off to the side, he lifted one of his hands to study it. It was trembling violently. Clutching it with the other, he took deep breaths to steady himself, to try to regulate his breathing back to normal. Glancing up at the police officer, he stared into Owens' bright green eyes burning with anger and something akin to disappointment, and Wes's heart fell silent. "Well?" he spoke up quietly. "Told you, boy. You'd be wise to stay away from the Jameson girl, kid." But Wes couldn't force his lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as the police officer pointed a shaking finger in the young wizard's face. "Nothing to say? That report is the God's honest truth of what happened to her daddy."

Wes's mind was blank and his blue eyes wide as she stared at the cop in horror. Officer Mac Owens searched his, waiting. He had to say something. The werewolf searched his mind for something reasonable to say, but to his surprise, his heart answered for him. "She…" His voice cracked and a muscle in his jaw twitched. He looked away, turning his head sharply from the police officer, needing a moment to compose himself. "She did the right thing."

Wes should know. He was something of an expert on the subject, having done what he had to protect his own family. As a result, he'd been shunned, and it was around a month following his parents' disowning that he'd fallen into line with Master Greyback. Fenrir had promised him a home, a family, a community.

The opportunity had been too good to pass up, given that he'd seen how the rest of society treated his kind.

Officer Owens scoffed and rolled his eyes, returning his attention to his card game. "You're an unusual young man, Shakespeare. Why break into the Jameson house at three o' clock in the morning?" he asked, referring to Norah. "You got a thing for her or something?"

But Wes did not answer, not at first. He'd stolen the picture of Norah out of its picture frame and had kept it tucked away safely in an interior pocket of his tunic. Pulling it out, he traced the edges of the portrait with the tips of his fingers. In the soft lighting of this rotten prison cell that smelled dingy, musty, and of dried blood, the young woman's features looked more luscious and brighter, tempting.

The thought of the young, beautiful woman he had risked life and limb to live among the Muggles. Ever since he'd spotted her in the café all those weeks ago, he'd been smitten with the young woman, and had taken it upon himself to protect her, had killed Wes so he could come here just to meet her, flashed in his vivid memory. The recollection of her bright brown eyes danced in the back of his mind.

If he focused long enough, he could hear her voice as if Norah were right next to him. Well, he had a good idea of her voice at least, having heard it several times throughout the course of the story. It was a good thing he did not need his hearing to be able to see the beautiful picture that was Norah Eve Jameson. The memory of her face almost resembled that of a painting as the warm pinks of the early sun rise danced through her beautiful brown hair. Her quiet little smile that she had given him when he'd been shoved in the back of the police carriage had laced over her face with such a sweetness, he was certain no other woman held such a smile. "Not even Mom."

A sudden and sharp pang thrashed through his heart. He felt wrong. Wrong, or more so, what he was feeling was wrong. It had to be. "The seductions of women will never die, dear nephew." Greyback's words rang in his ears. Wes's heart shook within him as his master's bitter voice clouded his thoughts.

The memory of Greyback was now clouded for Wes, though he had only seen him but a few hours ago, and the master had warned him of this girl, how she would ensnare and bewitch his mind. Greyback had instilled in Wes at a young age to be wary of women, to never trust them, but no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not. "How could it be true, Master?" he whispered, keeping his voice low enough so that Officer Owens could not hear.

Norah. How could she possibly be a temptress, a mistress of darkness? It was she who had led him to want to escape the confines of the realm in which he lived in, and now he was here, in the Muggle world. Wes's world was no longer confined in the small world Greyback had built. The world had become bigger and brighter because of this woman. For some reason, if he was given the chance to turn back time, he would still do it all over again, to come here.

That thought alone was enough to terrify the young wolf. Norah Eve Jameson's serene eyes drenched his memory. He never would have imagined a woman could invoke these foreign feelings, yet, here he was, broken, scarred, and beaten, but still feeling something. Of course, these feelings were new, but they still held a familiar yet foreign sense to them, like a distant fond memory that was not real.

However, something deep within the recesses of his heart still fought against it. These feelings were light and breathless, but underneath it all, there was something dark stirring within Wes. That 'wrong' feeling. Not only did he feel 'wrong,' but a snakelike voice sat in the back of his mind. It taunted him, even right now.

"You honestly think that woman is going to forgive you?" it laughed at him. "You are still _so_ pathetic. You haven't learned your lesson at all." These intrusive thoughts left him speechless and pondering. The photograph in his hand was almost forgotten as his hold loosened. The pictures in the Muggle's world did not move as the ones in the wizarding world did. It was most unusual. His blue eyes were left unblinking, his breath hitching in his throat.

"What would Mum say to you if you were to go home? She would tell you "I told you so," and it wasn't worth it!" A heavy hand found its way to his face. Wes snapped his tired eyes shut to block out the demon voice inside his head. The mocking tone was laced with amusement and judgment. Unfortunately, he was awfully familiar with the tone at this stage. "If you truly love her, you wouldn't have frightened her like that! You're such a moron!"

"No!" His cracking voice erupted from him as though it would be the silencer to the voice in his head. The outburst startled Officer Owens, who looked up from his card game and furrowed his brow.

He hadn't been previously, but as the soldier says the words, Wes felt his stomach snarl and how and from it came the not-so-subtle undertone of pain, reminding him he hadn't eaten anything for hours. It came in waves and it seemed as though his stomach was slowly digesting itself. He clutched at it to silence it, but to no avail. It cried even louder, even him a curious stare from Mac. It was a slow pain, eating away at his stomach and left him feeling drained and empty. Officer Owens frowned and let out a tired sigh.

"You okay in there, kid? You uh, hungry or something?"

Wes swallowed nervously and nodded. The officer sighed and heaved himself off his chair with a heavy sigh, informing him he would be back in a moment with something for him to eat.

Once left alone to his own thoughts, Wes sighed and stared. Surrounded by four stone walls, there was nothing else to do but stay at the gray. To look at the paint that had started to chip off as time passed or gouged out by other prisoners—anything to pass the time, theorizing absurd meanings from the wall's blank staring contest.

The air inside the jail cell was different, and for a moment, Wes was unable to put his finger on why that was. Then it occurred to him, the smell of sweat was gone, there was no sound of people, no sign of Officer Owns returning any time soon. Nothing. Nothing but the eerie silence. But that wasn't the worst of it. The place was just walls, walls and giant, deserted rooms filled with dust. Here, Wes could feel the icy grip of death lingering in the air.

His shallow breathing only worsened as time seemed to pass slowly. "Y—you're wrong, I—I'm happy…" He buried his head in his hands, slumping against the wall to the floor, not caring if the floor was freezing, pieces of his dark hair sticky every which way as they tangled his fingers. When he drew his hands away, they came away slightly crimson, his palms stained with his blood. The hit with the vase the young woman had given him over the head had been a damn good one. Someone along the way taught the young woman how to fight. The still photograph fell to the cement prison cell as a soft breeze through the open barred window carried the feeble thing to the ground. The edges of the photo bent, connecting with the cold floor. The poor man was almost hysterical at this point. His lungs burned as the biting air thrashed in and out of him at a speed he could not slow down for the life of him, despite his best efforts.

The thundering of his heart numbed his chest. He was sure slick tears would slip from his eyes at any moment. He'd come all the way here to meet Norah Jameson, and he'd failed his objective, his task. With true love, he felt like the other was the reason his life had the potential to be truly beautiful, and he'd blown it. It was when he was lost in her eyes, those thoughts, and he thought of her daily over the last week. Loving someone was the best feeling because whenever he felt low, he would sometimes find himself talking to her, though Wes knew that Norah Jameson could not hear him, but still, he talked to her, and he imagined that she would say, "It's all right. I'm with you." After a moment of deafening silence, the voice had finally ceased tormenting him. The only thing his ears heard now was the wind flowing around his trembling body. His head pounded, pressed into his hands. His lungs had calmed slightly, the burning feeling gone. "I—I like her." His tenor-like voice dropped lower than he was used to. This was wrong. It had to be wrong. How could he look at Norah like this? Greyback had been right. Coming here had been a foolish endeavor, one he _never_ should have decided to undertake. "What would Master say?" This time, the internal voice was his own. The question swirled in his throbbing head. As the silence around him thickened, an abrupt bitterness seeped into his stomach.

_Greyback_. He wished he would have thought to ask his uncle for more words of wisdom prior to departing, but he hadn't the chance, given the mob. "If only…" he poked an eye through his fingers. "If he had come, he might have been able to help me. He'd know what to do." A lump in his throat formed as his breathing stuttered. "No…"

Wes shook his head violently as he immediately dismissed those incriminating thoughts. He could not, would not, blame someone else for something they were not responsible for. It wasn't Greyback's fault he hadn't accompanied him here, to this strange place where the world moved too damn fast for him to keep up. He mumbled a quick prayer to the gods under his breath as he brought his trembling hands down in front of him and onto his lap. His glazed eyes looked downward towards the crumpled photograph. With a sigh, he knelt to the small thing and gingerly picked it up, resting it in his palm. He stared down at Norah's smiling face with thoughtful eyes. Her smile was the prettiest thing he had seen in a long time, for it extended to her eyes and into her soul. Her soft, luscious lips in the photograph stretched into a smile but didn't quite reach Norah's dark eyes. They were lit with sadness, and the forced expression of the contrary on her mouth would have looked comical to Wes if it didn't make his heart feel heavy. For a few moments, he stared in silence at her portrait, almost certain Norah Jameson's expression mirrored his. It broke his heart. He didn't want her to leave him. Wes didn't want to turn into a random image that floated in the pool of Norah's memory. He didn't want to be the smile that squeezed her chest somewhere far away. He did not want her to go. Wes wanted her smile to stay.

His thoughts wandered again to Norah for a moment upon looking at her photograph. He closed his strained eyes, pressing the photograph to his chest. The memories of the night swirled in his mind. He was confused, and utterly lost, but something good came of it. He rose slightly to his feet, still clutching the photo to his chest as the sound of footsteps approached. The approaching footsteps had the wet sound of someone on grass, squelchy, and of someone who had not learned to walk quietly, and instead relied on the verges to muffle their steps. Each footfall was chaotically spaced from the last, no rhythm at all. Whoever it was, Wes could tell they were confident, cocky, even. They were neither a threat nor of interest.

The cell door opened, and a tossed package was thrust at his chest. It was Officer Owens. "Enjoy," he muttered dryly, handing him a bag. "Was all the store had left. Eat up there, Shakespeare and keep quiet. Don't want to hear you making a fuss. You got anybody we can call for you? Family? Anyone who can let you out of here?"

"N—Norah Jameson," he offered silently. The officer frowned.

"You mean the very girl whose room you broke into?" Officer Mac Owens snorted, shaking his head in disgust. "I don't think so."

Wes frowned, but couldn't seem to formulate a response, and opted instead for unwrapping the package he received.

He crinkled his nose in disgust. "What the bloody hell is this?"

"Sandwich," muttered Officer Owns through a mouthful of food.

The sandwich looked like something that had died. It was limp. The bread had that dried dehydrated texture. The filling was some sort of slimy meat and cheese that looked way too old to eat.

Wes scrunched his nose and took a bite. He gagged and spit it out, coughing and spluttering and refused to eat another bite.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded irately to the soldier.

Officer Owens rolled his eyes in disgust. "Bologna. You eat it."

Wes made another face and shoved his sandwich away, instead opting for the other bag. "What is this crap…" he said quietly, wrenching open the bag and watched the police officer, following his lead, throwing what he heard the cop call a chip into his mouth.

Officer Owens let out a dark little chuckle. "You foreign?"

"Foreign?" Wes furrowed his brow in thought. "Uh…yes…"

"Figured as much," the cop said, agreeing, nodding his head. Letting out a heavy sigh, he wrapped up his own sandwich, making a mental note for later. "Where you from? France? Germany? Switzerland? The hell you dressed like that for?" The soldier asked, frowning. "You sure you don't have anybody I can call?"

Wes frowned, glancing down at his tunic, finding nothing wrong with it. This was one of his favorite outfits, and for this soldier that had fed him the revolting bologna sandwich was going too far.

"Why are _you_ dressed like _that_?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing at the man's uniform, folding his arms across his chest, frowning.

"All right, all right," mumbled the cop, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Whereabouts you from, kid? Over in Europe, maybe?"

"None of your business." He spat the words as if it were poison in his mouth. The cop with the strange uniform frowned, but made no further comment, for which Wes was grateful.

"You sure you don't have any family I can call for you?"

"Norah." Her name left his lips rather cold and hard. "Please."

The cop frowned, rubbing the three-day stubble underneath his chin, lost in thought. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll make the call. Don't know what you hope to expect to gain by having _her_ come get you."

While Officer Owens made the call, Wes rested his forehead against the bars of the door, his knuckles white with the effort to steady himself. He had to see her. Norah Jameson.

He wanted her to come as close as she could to these damn prison walls and whisper words of love into the tiny cracks. He could forgo the sun's light; he could suffer nothing but bleak walls for company but love he simply could not live without. Wes wanted Norah Jameson to tell him of the days to come. Everything in this jail cell was laced with the biting feeling of cold. The bitter air hung in the vast prison, and Officer Owens didn't seem to mind the cold. Wes's aching bones were still shaking from what had transpired moments ago, yet the moment had felt like it had lasted for hours. His tunic clung to his body uncomfortably. The worn black cloth felt heavy, his body feeling fatigued and drained.

If he had one more stressing or terrifying thought, the lonesome werewolf would surely burst. With a heavy sigh and a run of his dark hair with his hand, he slumped to the floor, resting his back against the cold stone wall of the cage. The low crackling of a couple of candles was only slight background to the young man, but for him, it was almost too loud for him to handle. This was odd for him. Perhaps it was less about the noise, but more so the heat emanating.

Everything was still. He was still, and then— _Pop_!

A sudden crack from a nearby box startled him greatly. One of the other soldiers was watching a little black box, and images were flashing on it, too fast for Wes to catch up, but he could tell that something was on fire. The waves of sharp alarm hit him fast and hard. The abrupt but small sound had caused him to withdraw his shaken hand back into himself once more, shrinking into his tunic for warmth and comfort. Well, that was one way to brought back to reality. His hand, now, curled into a fist, unfurled to clutch at his chest. The soft fabric of his shirt tangled within his slightly calloused fingers. Wes was always a young man who startled easily throughout most of his life, but recently, his jumpiness, especially in this foreign land, was worse. His hammering heart had just begun to slow down when he was able to take a full breath again.

Wes let his heavy hand rest on his chest. He took in a long, shaky breath. He hadn't realized it, but he had closed his eyes while doing so, the flickering of the light from the candles still present. When he'd asked about it, one of the soldiers had said something about the AC unit being busted, and it was for warmth. Wes's face contorted into a twisted grimace as he buried his face in his hands and shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the sounds. He did not belong in this cage. He belonged outside. With her. Norah.

He needed to hear her voice…

* * *

Norah was beginning to wonder if she was in fact, to a greater or lesser extent, insane. She was not doing this. She was so not doing this. She. Was. Not. Doing. This.

Surprise, though! Oh, but she was. The cop from last night had called Norah's cell phone number, claiming Shakespeare claimed to have no family here, and was asking for Norah. Norah huffed, ending the call with Officer Owens and plunking it back into her little purple purse, another gift from Emma.

She glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror of her bedroom before heading out. Emma would practically be ecstatic. She'd taken great care to apply a natural looking foundation and powder to her face, and some light brown eyeshadow and mascara, followed by a light pink lip gloss, finished off with a setting spray and Bare Minerals. Her brown hair she'd pulled up into a loose bun and allowed a few tendrils to escape, framing her thin face. Her indigo blue dress was perfect for her slender, petite frame, mixed midi print dress from the nearby boutique that she'd had her eye on for two weeks. Paired with a pair of simple brown sandals that showed off her love for purple toenail polish and with the purse, she thought it looked first date worthy.

Her parents had been shocked when she'd announced she had agreed to go pick up Shakespeare the Pervert. But still, they did not stop her. Emma, on the way out, gave the outfit a quick thumbs up of approval, and Clive even said she looked nice, which was a rare occurrence, Clive giving her a compliment.

"We'll be back," she called out, to which she received grunts in response. Her parents were still finishing up last minute packing.

"You sure you want to do this Norah? He _is_ kind of a creep."

Norah stifled her giggling, shoving her knuckles in her mouth.

"Guys, I—I really don't think that's it. He wouldn't do that."

Clive rolled his eyes. "If you say so, No-No. Good luck."

"Take your pepper spray!" shouted Emma, a wad of clothes in her arms as she sauntered between the laundry room and bedroom.

"Kay! Dad, can I borrow some clothes?" Norah shouted.

"What for?" he asked, and then a slap on the arm from his wife and he immediately understand. "Oh. For Shakespeare," he breathed. A dark look crossed his features, one of anger, but just as soon as it had come, it had gone. "Yeah, fine. Radiohead t-shirt."

She nodded, rummaging through their dresser until she found it and a pair of jeans. They'd probably be big on him, but oh well.

As Norah walked outside and stepped into the summer air, she took in a deep breath. With each stride, her mind became clearer, more resolute. She was a girl on a walk, starting to get a feel for who she really was at her core. These days of more calmness, now that she had mastered the art of having a clear brain, the serenity of feeling her own intelligence rather than tiring herself with unresolved thoughts, Norah could see far more clearly, yet rather through her senses than her eyes, a sort of thinking without words.

And what came to her were new thoughts, a sort of poetry she never realized she was capable of. The street was breathing, living, through the trees and the people, as if they were in a strange conversation of sorts, one of the emotions. It was as if the colors and the sounds, the bustle and the quiet place, were a million weaved moments, transient and real. Norah let out a sigh as she walked.

Odd. Odd was the only word the young woman could use to describe the multitude of occurrences that had transpired. She held the book loosely in her fair hands before slipping it back into her purse as she walked slowly down the sidewalk. She took a loose strand of hair that had fallen loose from her bun to twirl as she thought through the events of her 'odd' evening last night. The night had been so…so…Norah could not even find a word to describe it.

What was even stranger, was that it was not particularly a bad thing. The sun had begun setting behind her, the trees taking on a darker look. The air still feel colt, the breeze brushing over her smooth skin. Her feet were growing tired from all this damn walking.

Her gaze shifted to the vast sky above her. The setting sun's rays had not yet touched her corner of land, the sky still holding a light blue hue to it. The sky's color reminded her of something, or someone. The man's wary eyes from before flooded her thoughts.

Norah's breathing stifled as her mind wandered to him unexpectedly. "Wes…" His name left her lips without any thought, which surprised her. He was honestly the strangest, but also the handsomest young man she had ever met. He fit the character of the hero in the story she was currently reading to a T perfectly, right down to his description. The same face, the same hair, everything. A certain tender aura had surrounded him following that moment just before he'd been escorted away to the station by Mac Owns, as if he had never been exposed to the evils and corruption of this world. Never in a million years did she think she would meet a guy who would captivate her interest like this. Norah could not stop thinking about the man's eyes. Such a brilliant blue. They had been round and brimming with wonder. The hues that flowed in his eyes were the most beautiful myriad shades of blue she had ever seen. As shocking as their first meeting had been, deep down, Norah knew as she walked towards the police station to bail Shakespeare out that he had held no malicious intent. That he truly thought he was helping her.

Still, something inside her still harbored a twinge of caution towards Wes, and Norah despised the feeling. She knew it was her wariness talking from all the horrible things that happened last night, the rather 'unorthodox' way they had met. He literally fell onto her, at least, that's what she was able to ascertain, judging from the knot on the back of her head that throbbed whenever she touched it.

Norah paused outside the block. It was a twenty-minute walk from her house towards the police department, but she enjoyed the exercise. She huffed in frustration as she caught sight of her reflection in a nearby antiques shop window, taking a moment to smooth her dress and doing her best to tuck her hair back into place. She did not realize that the winds had caused her bun to come down loose now.

As Norah placed the last pieces of hair back into place, a bobby pin clamped between her teeth, her eye caught sight of the London Police Department in the distance. Her hand stayed by her ear as she stared at the slightly decrepit structure. He was in there being held.

Wes. She tried to picture what it must be like to be kept on your own in one of those disgusting prison cells even just for one night, and a pang of sympathy ran through her by the thought of him being left alone in a strange city, if what had happened last night was real, and he really was some sort of—of _wizard_ that had managed to break into her room through that book, then that meant the book was…magic. If that was the case, then he had _literally_ fallen into her life. A thought crossed her mind. "What if you stayed with us?"

"No. I—I couldn't." Norah put her hand over her mouth as she tried to silence her thoughts. "He could though, b-but what would I say?" Norah, in a fit of agitation, began to pace a small line back and forth in front of the antiques shop, earning a few quizzical stares from curious passerby. Ones, she noticed, that did not trust her, like Mrs. Sinclair or Mrs. Henderson. They thought she was a bad influence.

She knew it stemmed from the rumors of her killing her father.

"They weren't rumors," Norah whispered angrily. "It happened."

The young brunette continued pacing. She had a habit of doing so whenever she was nervous or thinking about something troubling her.

Her pacing was not fast, but rather a leisurely stroll as she shifted her purse to her other arm and wrung her hands together painfully.

"For God's sake, I just met the man, and—and he didn't exactly make a great first impression!" Norah threw her hands out, gesturing to no one in particular. She let out a heavy sigh as she stopped dead in her tracks, shifting her weight to rest on her left leg, minding her sandal as she kicked at a loose pebble moodily, still lost in thought. "He pointed a stick in my face, called it a wand and said he was some kind of-of wizard!" the young brunette squeaked. "Clearly, he's insane! And...and I'm insane for even thinking of going to bail him out! What if he attacks me again? I don't think pepper spray is going to do the trick against that man."

She crossed her arms below her hammering heart. She could not believe she was entertaining the thought. Norah put her hand back over her mouth, her eyes glanced over to old Mom, Mr. Fredrickson's cat that hung around outside the antique shop. "What do you think, Mom?" she whispered affectionately. The only response she received from the ornery tabby was a heavy huff and a flick of his ear and tail. Norah in turn sighed reluctantly as well. "Ooh, I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm talking to a cat about releasing a supposed man from jail after he landed on top me in my bedroom at three in the morning, looked like he wanted to kiss me, and kept spouting nonsense about true love, I must be out of my mind!" she moaned, clutching the strap of her purse tightly, as if for security, and skipped over a crack in the sidewalk towards the building. "I am out of my mind, and I really am a stupid woman."

Her legs moved at a brisk pace as she made her journey towards an uncertain future, where, if all of this was real, a wizard waited. "Ugh, am I _really_ doing this?" Norah couldn't bring herself to go into the police station quite just yet. She had no idea how she had talked herself into this. She huffed as she shifted her purse to her other shoulder, running her slim fingers through her hair as she, for the third time in the last ten minutes, readjusted her bun so it was in place. Why? Why was she so stupid? Was she really going to release a man who, by all accounts and purposes, was some sort of…wizard? Furthermore, one who had fallen on top of her quite _literally_ , and had tried to ask her out on a date? If this wasn't dumb, she didn't know what was. The tall dark oak trees of the town's park had fallen away behind her not too long ago. Emma and Clive's home sat farther away than most did from the central square of the town, hidden behind the trees. She wished she could retreat into the thicket of their home's safe neighborhood, her haven, but her stubborn legs would not let her. What the hell had gotten into her lately? Huh?

Norah wished she could tell herself. The brisk summer air felt warmer than usual, although that could just be the blood rushing to her cheeks. She walked along the sidewalk she was all too familiar with. She had walked this pathway every day for years to school.

The abnormally lively young woman's feet felt less tired and lighter as she walked. Oh, this was so, so, incredibly stupid.

A flash of red passed by her face in a blur. She squeaked from the sudden sight, halting in her tracks. With a few blinks, and a brush of her hair, she looked up to find the fluttering of a bird. A tiny one.

The little cardinal was painted red like the setting sun of a summer day. The sky was a perfect backdrop. The baby blue of the atmosphere made the little bird's color pop with such intensity. The bird glided and swooshed about her view as it sang a sweet unknown song. Norah giggled at the sight of the playful cardinal. She was grateful she did not lose her footing, which, she almost did in fact lose, initially startled by the little bird's arrival. "Well, aren't you just handsome !" Norah let her amused eyes follow the bird as she brought her arms to clasp in front of her. He chirped a trill of notes in response. With a final twirl, he flew off into heaven knows where. Her new friend swirled the sky gracefully over the calm summer breeze. Her gaze followed the radiant red bird intently as she began to walk again, back towards the station. The rooftops of the town's businesses soon came into her line of sight. Her thoughts warned her of something as she walked.

What would people say if they saw her walking into the station? As much as she liked to believe people would think she was just running an errand for Clive (her dad happened to be chief of police), people talked, so everyone knew Norah was not exactly the most well-behaved gal around town. As she was pondering her swirling thoughts, a sudden realization hit her. Her dress! Yes, yes, her dress!

Norah hardly ever wore dresses or makeup, and it had slipped her worrying mind that she had taken the time prior to leaving to get a little bit dolled up to come jailbreak this poor guy out of his cell, so no one would know it was her upon first glance! She snapped her fingers in triumph. Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, she stood silently, just outside the police station's door, a hand hovering.

"What the hell mess did I get myself into now?" she moaned.

Of all the things she could have done, for some peculiar reason yet unknown to the pretty brunette, she had decided to do this.

A curt puff of air splashed her fair features as the sunset stained bird flew past her. His wings flapped once, then twice. The small thing was flying away from the town of London. Norah Jameson wondered…what if she turned back, just like her painted friend had done. She was having second thoughts. This was crazy! It was insane!

She was crazy. Yet here she was, standing on the front stoop of the police station, heading inside to bust out a strange man called Wes.

What was she _doing_? She pressed her palm to her forehead in annoyance. The flustered woman wished her mind would quiet down for a change. Deep breaths flowed out of her in the form of long exhales. She had to go. Norah was nervous, yes, but she could not, would not turn away now. With a gentle tug of her purse strap, and instinctively checking the clasps on her simple white stud earrings, she pushed onward, one small foot in front of the other, to Wes.

Before she knew it, she was inside the police station, and now she was surrounded by more bodies than she could count. Flinching, she steeled her nerves and tried to push through the massive throng of people. This was one of the reasons she never liked coming into town when it was like this. Even in summer, London was as lively as ever. Even though the anxious young woman was sure no one was paying her any mind, she felt as though many eyes were staring at her as she grunted and pushed, trying to shove her way through the crowd to get to the receptionist check in desk to bail Wes out.

All she had to do was make it through here unseen, and everything would be fine. Without her noticing, her pace quickened. Norah held her head slightly lower than normal. Soon, the front desk and the receptionist, a girl named Sally, came into her line of eager sight. Her breath hitched in her throat, though she did not stop walking, muttering, "Excuse me's," and "Pardon me's," under her breath, trying to ignore the quizzical stares of the onlookers near her.

She was a few paces away from breaking into a run at this point, though she tried desperately to control her urges. Her thundering heart pounded in her chest as the excitement coursed through her veins. The desk. She was right in front of the desk, and Sally. Was it too late to turn back? Unfortunately, no, it wasn't.

For a moment, her wide brown eyes gazed at the desk where Sally stood, impatiently popping a bubble with her gum and typing away frantically at her computer, looking bored out of her skull at work. Norah wondered if one of the other cops were watching her from their stations, assessing why Norah Jameson, the trouble child, the girl who'd killed her daddy, was here. Had she come to confess a crime? _You can't stand here forever_ , her voice chastised her darkly. As much as she would have liked to, people would notice her if she did. The overwhelmed girl recited a quick prayer under her breath before making her way up towards the reception desk, dinging the bell, just to annoy Sally Peterson, and lo and behold, it worked. "I really am a stupid woman," Norah murmured to herself, speaking only above a whisper for the second time since making the walk over here. She breathed a heavy sigh as she met Sally's gaze.

"What?" snapped Sally, looking annoyed at the interruption.

Norah felt her temper swell and bristle, but she bit her tongue and fought back the retort that burned on its tip. "Is he here?" she asked.

A deadpan stare. "Is _who_ here, Miss Jameson?" came her reply.

Norah stood in front of the reception desk in complete awe, the pressure behind her eyes not forgotten but subsiding as memories of the last time she'd been in a station like this swirled to the front of her mind. When she'd killed her father and had been brought in for questioning. The thought stirred a bittersweet feeling within her. She blinked once, twice, to clear her mind of such dark thoughts and coughed. "Uh, I—I think his name is Wes something. I don't know his last name. Owens asked me to come bail him out," she mumbled quietly to Sally.

Sally motioned with a jerk of her head towards the cells.

"In back," she grumbled, returning her attention to her work.

"Thanks," muttered Norah quietly, not wasting another second. As she walked and headed towards one of two holding cells, a deep vibration suddenly surged the ground as the sound of a fallen object filled her ears. The sound of sad object's fall held a high-pitched clattered twang. Norah whirled around to her right as she brought her hands to clasp over her open mouth, a tiny gasp escaping her mouth.

The abrupt noise had ripped her out of her dazed thoughts. Then, she could see him. The young man who had so unceremoniously fallen on top of her had accidentally knocked over a pole as Officer Owens flung open the cell door upon seeing Norah.

"Miss Jameson," the officer murmured courteously with a dip of his head. "Good to see you again. Your little boyfriend's been dying to see you," he commented, noticing the young brunette's face flush.

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend. He's just a friend," she started to say, but the frazzled woman was not concerned with the rumors now, as her heart was still thundering in her chest as she met his gaze. "Oh, God." Everything was not fine. Why was she here! She shouldn't be here. Oooh. Norah took a deep breath and lifted her chin slightly to meet the strange young man's gaze and tossed him the bundle of Clive's old clothes. "Here, Shakespeare," she mumbled, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "Put those on."

"Why?" he retorted, though the huge grin on his face at seeing her again was currently making her heart flutter against its chest.

"Just change your clothes!" Norah shouted, growing flustered. She turned around to give him privacy, though found herself fighting the urge to look. Out of the corner of her eye as she turned her head just so, she could see his lean, hard muscle as he was shirtless. "Jesus."

When he was finally dressed, she turned and met his eyes, those indigo darts—sharp, yet still full of emotion. They weren't heavy or blunt, just apparent. Each glance radiated the mischief within him.

"We're getting out of here. You hungry? C'mon, Shakespeare, we're going home, but I have to make a pit stop by work first."

Not waiting to ask for permission, she grabbed his arm and shoved him out of the cell rather violently, mumbling a half-hearted thanks to Officer Owens for taking care of Wes for Norah. "Thanks, Owens," she called out behind her shoulder.

"Anytime, Jameson. Tell your mutant little boyfriend there next time he wants to see you, try knocking on the damn door instead."

She chuckled a little at the cop's retort but said nothing. Norah waited until they were outside the police station before speaking. "You okay?" she asked, turning towards Wes and admiring his slender, lean form in her dad's t shirt and jeans. As predicted, they were slightly big on him, but no matter.

Wes breathed a sigh of relief, and, without warning her, enveloped her in a tight hug. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sank into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the air warmer somehow. Her future here in London seeming a little less bleak.

His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he spoke. "I knew you wouldn't let me rot in that cage. I've been in my fair share of cages, but none as barbaric as that. They force fed me something called bologna. You Muggles are even more barbaric than I imagined," he snapped indignantly, scrunching his nose and making a face, much to Norah's amusement as she pulled back to study him.

Norah stared. "What's a Muggle?" she asked curiously. She shook her head to clear her mind, annoyed with herself for getting off-topic. "We need to talk, Wes. What the hell is this?" Norah demanded, dipping into her purse to pull out the red leather book.

Wes's eyes softened as his gaze drifted downward to her hands. "Was the only way I could think of to get your attention. I wrote it myself," he answered quietly, swiftly removing his wand from his pants pocket, showing it to her just briefly. "You have to trust me." he said softly, curling her fingertips over the book. "It's real. I'm real. Open it and see," he encouraged gently, letting his eyes sweep over her figure, admiring her form in her simple blue dress.

Now it was Norah's turn to make a face and stick her tongue out at him. "Ok. Wes, if that's your real name." Her face fell, looking slightly crestfallen. "If you want to survive in this world, you _have_ to stay close to me, got that?"

Nodding, he pointed a finger towards the book clutched close to her heart. "Are you going to open that, or do I have to do it for you?"

Quirking a slightly distrustful brow his way, she followed suit, and drew in a sharp breath as he leaned in closer to see for himself, his body pressed against hers. She was momentarily surprised at how well they seemed to fit together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

"What the _fuck_?" she cried indignantly, the outburst earning her a few dark stares from older adults as they passed by them on the sidewalk. "Sorry," she mumbled, not sounding at all sorry for it.

Wes shot Norah Jameson a dark look. "You _kiss_ people with that mouth of yours, Jameson? It's rather uncouth of you, yes?"

The pages were blank. "What the hell is this, Wes?" she croaked hoarsely, flipping through the pages. "The—the words are gone!"

"The story's not the same since I'm not writing it anymore," he explained, reiterating what Greyback had told him the night before, how this girl loved to read, based on months of watching her, and how this was the best way to get her attention.

"Why did you come here?" she asked, a hand on her hip.

He didn't even have to think about his answer. "For you."

Norah froze, not even feeling it as he instinctively reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The moment she realized she'd misinterpreted his actions the other night, his words, that expression as he'd been led out to the back of the police car. That moment her words stopped and failed her was the moment her heart broke. Yet, she knew as she met the piercing blue of the young man's gaze, Norah believed that it was a good breaking…the type that led to healing and new ways onward. Sometimes, the loss of words said more. "You hungry? And I don't mean for that sorry sack of shit of bologna sandwich you ate," Norah piped up suddenly. She liked the way his blue eyes lit up and the small smile that formed on his lips.

"Yeah," he admitted, his sheepish smile fully evident now.

"Good, because I came to bail you out so I could ask you on a date." Norah finished her declaration and let her words hang in the air. When she smiled at Wes, he felt his heart rattle in its cage.

That smile was the prettiest thing he'd seen in a long time, for it extended to her eyes and deep into Norah Jameson's soul, that gentle touch, the honesty that was a purity, her innocence so vibrant, free. 'Crush' was such an infantile word, one that must have been invented by older folks, the ones with an interest in belittling young love. Wes knew as he looked at Norah that he did not simply have a 'crush' on Norah. No, he loved her with a passion that was hotter than a thousand suns. She was the one. This he knew. She was all that was in his mind; she was his true North, his everything. One day soon, they'd prove everyone wrong. They'd run away together, start a family of their own, have a girl and a boy as their children. Soon, he would find a way to talk to her, tell her how he felt, and then he could finally stop hiding his true emotions, and she hers… His focus was so scattered, so filled with nervous anticipation was he, so excited, even giddy. Wes couldn't hold a conversation or stand still while his thoughts danced in infinite directions like this. Yet, he had to get through their date in one piece. As they walked down the sidewalk, heading towards the town square plaza towards a bus stop, and Wes couldn't remember the last time he'd asked this many questions. Wes could picture their relationship already—holding hands, a tingling feeling spreading throughout his entire body as she did so. He would take her for a walk through the park and count the ducks. It seemed the most natural thing in this Other World for couples to do, or so she was telling him. And she, his special girl.

"I'm taking you to the mall, dingus," she was telling him, interrupting his thoughts. When he glanced down, he noticed their hands were hovering dangerously close to each other's. A wild thought struck him. What if he grabbed it and held it? Would she pull away? Would she let him hold her hand and not resist it?

"May I?" he asked, dipping his head and gesturing to their hands.

She looked momentarily startled for a moment, but quickly recovered and nodded mutely. He held her hand, intertwining their fingers together and drew in a sharp breath. _A perfect fit_ , he thought.

The bus, though to Wes it rather looked like some godforsaken beast, screeched to a stop, making a horrible hissing noise as the doors opened. "Come on," she encouraged, dragging him along.

Norah noticed him looking around the interior of the bus and chuckled. "It's called a _bus_ , Wes. It won't hurt you. C'mon, Wes."

"I know buses," he grumbled. "We have the Knight Bus."

Norah looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or not. She led him towards the back of the bus, never once letting go of his hand, for which Wes was secretly grateful. Her hand was warm and smooth against the skin of his own palm, slightly rough.

The few people sitting on the bus that would take them to the mall swamped the cab with muddied silence. The seats and windows shook with every small bump in the ragged pavement, jostling the passengers back and forth. The air conditioning pumped through only a few filters, whistling with the extreme pressure. It smelled slightly of diluted gas, causing Norah to pinch her nose shut. As the world slid by the window, there were small movements from amongst the other passengers. Someone shifted in their seat, there was a little cough, and a mild 'bless you.' The breaks squeaked and everyone lurched forward as the bus came to a full stop.

Outside, a woman dropped her fag, smothered it with her foot, and stepped inside, dropping a quarter into the plastic box and blowing the last breath full of smoke in the driver's face, who swatted it away in her direction as she walked down the aisle. The doors closed with a gasp of air and the bus lurched on, repeating its eternal pattern of stops and go's, turning down its routine corners, and failing to avoid the ditches carved in the blacktop. The bus rocked the passengers from side to side as it traveled the familiar roads, their brains afforded the time to daydream and rest. There were those who talked, their voices rising and blending in the ritual of friends. Some absorbed themselves in music, Wes noticed. Others drifted into worries that would erase themselves upon arrival, when their bodies would rejoin the world of moving and speaking to other people.

"Why did you come here to see me?" Norah asked quietly, breaking the silence between herself and Wes at last.

"Because…I like you," he answered hesitantly, noticing how she was actively averting her gaze, seemingly interested in looking out the window. He took his hand and cupped her chin, turning her head slightly so she was forced to meet his gaze. "I like you, Norah."

"But why?" she asked, almost sounding desperate. Upset, even. She was staring at him with a new intensity he didn't know what to make of. "You—you shouldn't like me, Wes. No one should."

Her delicate hands reached up and traced the freckles on his arm, connecting them with invisible lines, like one would draw a map.

Wes stared incredulously. "How could I not?" he replied, careful to mind his tone around the beautiful Reader, though he was dangerously close to sounding almost angry with Norah Jameson.

When she looked away from him a second time, he decided he wasn't having any of it, and cupped her cheek so her beautiful eyes met his own. She frowned at his answer and looked away sharply. He dropped his hand and fiddled with a loose string on his shirt, a strange thing with pictures and words on it, some music group, according to Norah. She would have him listen to their songs later. Wes loved the fading sunset behind her dark eyes, the light that danced through her dark tresses of her slightly messy bun, the sadness nestled in the creases of her palms as he held her hand.

He loved all of Norah, not just the parts that made sense, not just the parts she had shown him in the brief time they'd spent together. Wes loved the parts of her that he didn't yet understand, the parts that weighed on Norah's shoulders, the parts he only noticed when he stole glances at her in silence. "How could I not."

Norah opened her mouth to say something in response, but Wes knew if he didn't do this now, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. His desire was reaching his limit, and if he didn't go for it, he felt like he was going to explode. After all, she was the reason he came. "Shush," he hushed her, before moving his finger, pressing his hand against her cheek, giving him more support to push himself towards her, and connect their lips in a gentle, but brief kiss. His lips were firm against hers, but their kiss was soft, gentle, and slow.

They held it for a few seconds, before their lips began to move in perfect sync, slowly, cautiously at first, neither willing to break it off.

Wes exhaled through his nose, not wanting to let go and end it. His entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, combined with eccentric panic and lust for Norah Jameson.

He moved his hand from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers entangled in the hair at the nape of her neck that wasn't pulled up in her bun, lightly pulling Norah into him, adding more pressure to their lips, deepening the kiss. If this was the only chance he got, then it had been worth it.

Norah broke apart first, half dazed, her eyes slightly lidded. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and another tendril of hair had come loose from her bun. "That…you…thank you," she whispered hoarsely.

"For what?" Wes asked, truly surprised at her reaction.

"For that. I…no one's ever kissed me before," she confessed. Norah looked back at Wes, and there was a softness in his blue eyes. His eyes glistened in the light. She looked down at her lap, afraid if she stared any longer, she would ruin his beauty. He responded to that in kind by taking his finger and lifted it up, so she was forced to meet his eyes. Although his eyes were soft, Norah noticed the feelings behind them, as if he were longing for something more. He touched his forehead to hers, and she felt a strange warmth. One she'd never experienced before. It filled her body, from head to toe, invigorating her and filling her with a passion and a hope for a better future that was incredibly powerful and true. Wes leaned in for another kiss, gentle but passionate, he pressed his lips to hers a second time. The world around her slowed, so Norah could be in the moment. Her heart fluttered, and she kissed him back, cherishing the moment and him, not giving a damn if anybody on the bus saw. _Let them see_ , she thought wildly. His lips were soft and warm. He put his hand on the back of her head, pulling her closer to him so she was almost astride his lap in the bus's seat. They pulled back and smiled. Norah laid her head on his shoulder and even though she was still filled with warmth from their kiss, she shivered. "You cold?" he asked, not giving her time to answer as he removed the hoodie of Clive's Norah had brought, draping it over her shoulders.

That was how Wes met the Muggle girl, the one who would eventually become his wife. He had, as he'd hoped, found a way to make it work.

They sat together in that moment, neither of them saying a single word, for it was too precious to ruin.


	14. A Tiny Flicker Against the Wind

Tonks had connected to a part of Remus others never felt. She had seen a part of his soul that he never wanted to let out of the bag. He touched her and saw her reaction, beautiful, raw, intoxicating. For those moments, Remus had felt that she was more real than the blood in his own veins, and he'd felt like she was the beating of his own heart. The bond the two of them had forged was still molten when he'd pulled away from her. He would not endanger her life.

She'd called out, cried for him, held out her hand and let her face become wet with untold tears, but he could not look back and return. And so, his world was now blacker than it ever was before, darker for Dora's absence, loneliness crippling his every thought. His lungs struggled for breath against his ribs of stone, his feet lost the ability to move. Before he'd met Tonks, his heart was soft, easily fragile. With her, it had become strong and vibrant. Now, it was broken. A full month after Sirius's passing, the mourning had not run its course. The heaviness was in Remus's limbs as much as his mind. Things he used to find funny now only caused a deepening of the pain. Sirius should have been there to laugh with him, or at him, or just near. He should be making so cruel joke at the expanse of his own family name, giving advice to Harry, complaining about the price of eggs. Now there was just a graveyard, a stone that bore his name since the Order had been unable to recover Sirius's body from the Department of Mysteries. That did not stop them holding a service.

Remus was barely keeping it together as it was, as he glanced down at the grave marker that now bore the name of his best friend.

He cried until there was nothing left inside but a raw emptiness that nibbled at his insides like a hungry rat. His irises were threaded scarlet and red-rimmed, his eyes felt heavy in their sockets. His whole body hung limp like each limb weighed twice as much as it had before, and just moving felt like a slow, painful effort. The sun hid behind the clouds, still shining bright, but not for him, for there was no beauty left in the world. He'd pushed the love of his life away, and now his best friend was gone too. Remus Lupin had nothing left. What he needed right now would never come, and no matter how much he sought it out, he knew that he would not find it. Remus knew he was not born for great things, nor to find his place in the sun. He could try every day, work for what he wanted, but there were no paths that would truly lead him to what he wanted: to get _her_ back. The others, Mad-Eye Moody, Molly and Arthur, even to some extent Dumbledore, they all spoke to Remus as if he could dream his way out of this, simply discover a version of himself that only saw the opportunities and ignored the noise, the distractions, and the people that told him 'no', because they didn't believe in themselves, so how could they believe in him, Remus Lupin, an incredibly talented wizard who was forced to take menial jobs well below his paygrade, simply because he was a werewolf? When others found out what he truly was, they could barely talk to him once they knew of his condition. It took a precious few in his life like Molly and Arthur, and Tonks to keep him sane.

At the thought of Tonks, he could not stop the visions of her beautiful face flitting through his mind. How could they believe in him, when he didn't see it in himself? He wanted them to take away the well-meant words, the words that did not help and the smiles that were not real, call it despair if he wanted, but something fake hurt worse than anything in the world.

A voice startled poor Lupin out of his thoughts as he'd finished stowing his wand back in his jeans pocket, having conjured a single white lily to place at Sirius's grave. "Your best friend would want you to be happy. I hope that I am not intruding. Molly and Arthur told me I'd probably find you out here. "

The voice was not whom he was expecting.

"Dumbledore," he breathed, somewhat breathlessly, turning around to face Hogwarts' Headmaster, whose blue eyes were twinkling, despite the seriousness. Remus Lupin drew in a sharp breath that pained his lungs as he rose to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his joints, leaning heavily on the cane he relied on, particularly the day after a full moon. "Headmaster. It's a surprise seeing you out here," he murmured courteously, brushing his hands on the seat of his pants. Lupin glanced down, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious of his simple black turtleneck sweater and pants. Dumbledore's flowing robes were pristine and immaculate, his withered hands clasped in front of him. "It's so quiet," murmured Lupin, glancing out at the foggy sky. The mists swooped and skirted through the trees.

"It's the deep breath before the plunge," answered Albus.

"Is there any hope, Dumbledore? For Harry?" he asked.

Dumbledore sighed, not meeting his gaze. "There never was much hope," he confessed, his tone pained. "A fool's hope."

Remus lifted his head to meet Albus Dumbledore's gaze. His eyes were the ocean. So full of life, yet so uncertain. The blue-green hue carried his emotional currents, and before he could so much as draw another breath, he felt himself drowning in the man's piercing gaze.

Whenever he met the Headmaster's gaze, he felt drawn to the man's eyes. The icy blueness generated a feeling like he was being pulled into a lake of frozen emotions. It was like all the myriad shades of blue swirled together to form a whirlpool of apprehension.

Lupin could tell by the wizard's posture that he was displeased with him for some reason, and this little fact troubled him greatly, and those flickering blue azure orbs only confirmed his current musings.

"What can I do for you, Dumbledore?" Lupin asked, hoping his voice was steady. He was not at all surprised when the ancient man gave a curt wave of his arm, motioning for the younger man to follow.

"Let us walk," he answered simply. He said nothing for a while.

The autumn breeze carried fine drops, each one a promise of the rain to come in a few hours. As newly chilled air moved the clouds, Remus let his eyes rest for a moment, feeling the ambiance of the place, just to take in the aroma, letting his mind be still for a change.

Then when he wanted to see, it was if he just Apparated here, transported from some other time and place, able to see clearly.

Remus cast a wary glance at Albus Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye. He was old man, yes, but he could still see the young man in him, yearning to return to happier times of no burden. It was as if his soul was troubled, or maybe that inner boy that still dwelt within waited for a time to put down the mask of sanguine resilience and be himself all over again. He could see the worry lines and how they made crossed with those of joy, the boy his parents had welcome and the man and great scholar the wizarding world had asked for, the one who'd love to rise and the one who'd love to rest. "Headmaster?"

"Mmm?" Dumbledore glanced up from a bird he'd been admiring. The old man had long since forgotten what it felt like to have joints that moved freely, without pain. His aches were his constant companions, not friends, but always with him, especially now. He flexed his right hand, wincing at the pain within. Blackened, withered, and cursed, it was a constant reminder of his foolishness.

"Sir," began Lupin, finally noticing Dumbledore's hand.

Albus noticed where he was looking and pulled the sleeve of his robe over it further, concealing it. "Nothing you need to trouble yourself over," he added, with a wave of his hand. With his other hand, he gave a complicated wave of his wand, conjuring a bench. "Sit." It was not a request. Lupin obliged, not wishing to anger him.

Time was the thief Dumbledore always suspected her to be, taking his friends, his comrades and colleagues. Everybody seemed to want to have a long life and feared death, but what good was life if your life partners were dead, all your friends gone? Were Lupin to ask the old wizard what being so old was like, he would describe it as like bobbing on an ocean in a boat, not knowing when death would finally come to sever the rope that bound him to the shore, that bound his soul to this earthly coil. "Headmaster, I don't understand," he started to say, but he immediately fell silent as Dumbledore raised his good hand, effectively cutting off Lupin from speaking, his eyes narrowed.

The map of wrinkles on his face told of the most incredible journey. His eye lines told of laughter, of warm smiles and affection. His forehead told of worries past and worries present. But mostly they were so deeply engrained they told or a man who had travelled through eight decades to that moment; to stand here as an old man, beaten and forlorn. To be dismissed as "old" when he was so much more than the sum of his parts, it was considered quite cruel for him.

"Heartbreak is…" Dumbledore began, not looking at Lupin, instead out at the graveyard, at the countless tombstones. "It's a funny thing. The devastation you feel at the loss of a loved one is absolute."

Remus did not know what to say to that. "It is," he said at last.

Dumbledore chanced a glance at the distraught younger man out of the corner of his eyes. "You keep your doors locked, Lupin. No, not your physical door. The one in here," he added, reaching out his hand and placing it gently over Lupin's heart. "You think of it as a change for change, to keep others from hurting, but the only one you're hurting is yourself," he said somberly, contempt in his eyes.

The old wizard let out a tired sigh, glancing at a figure in the distance. Remus squinted to see where and what he was looking at, where his attentions were drawn to, and he froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Dora," he whispered, not bothering to lower his voice.

Albus leaned forward from his spot on the bench, intertwining his fingers together, as though not sure what to do with them now.

"I am quite disappointed in you, Remus," he said, and the immense dissatisfaction in his normally kind voice was almost cold.

The laughter evaporated from his blue eyes. His customary warmth gone faster than Remus could even blink. Even his focus was somewhere fixated ahead of them both, on Tonks's distant figure.

"I've found it is the small things, the everyday deeds. Simple acts of kindness and love that keeps the darkness of Voldemort's reign at bay. Harry Potter gives me courage, and I will always have hope."

Lupin knew in this moment he had crossed some invisible line, offended the Headmaster's sensibilities somehow. He had seen him do this to others before, but never once to him. Now, his blood drained from his face and his heart hammered within his chest.

"You abandoned Tonks when she needed you the most. Were your friends James and Lily, even Sirius still alive, I cannot even begin to fathom what they would think of your actions. You left. Why?" Dumbledore's voice was clipped and hard, sounding angry.

"I…my kind are not meant to intermingle, Headmaster. What I wanted, what I asked of her, was a fool's hope. I shouldn't have."

Dumbledore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, as though he were getting a splitting headache.

"The young woman was pregnant. You lost your child. That, if anything, was the time when she needed you the most, Lupin."

It did not escape Remus's attention that he'd said their child. Not hers or his. _Theirs_. "You have my condolences," he said simply, sounding truly remorseful and his voice shook at his own words. A beat. A pause. "She visits him every day, you know. I just thought you'd like to know. I'd rather you hear it from me than others."

"Who? Sirius?" Lupin found himself asking, a cold fear washing over his entire body, rendering him immobile and unable to do much else other than stare at Tonks in the distance, kneeling by a grave.

The young Auror was dressed in a simple black sleeveless pencil dress and a pair of simple black flats, her short pixie not quite returned to its usual vibrant pink state, though streaks of a deep magenta pink were streaked throughout, as though she were fighting, trying with all her effort to revert it to normal, and could not seem to find the will to make it happen. Her mascara had run down her face as tear tracks marred her pale cheeks, though even now, to Lupin, Tonks had never looked more beautiful. She'd raised her wand, silently conjuring a bouquet of beautiful purple and pink wildflowers.

"No," came Dumbledore's answer, and his voice was so soft Lupin barely heard it over the roar of the sudden gust of wind.

It took him a moment. Remus turned his head away sharply, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his facial muscles tensed and he fought back an onset wave of tears. "Our…our son?" he asked quietly.

"Mmm." Hogwarts' Headmaster gave a curt nod of his head. "Do not give up on her, Lupin. There are more dreams to come for you and her. Sunshine on rainy days, laughter, and love. I wish you both happiness, joy and love, something our world needs a little more of."

"But how can I even dream of having a future with her, Headmaster?" cried Lupin, running a hand through his hair in anguish, not wanting to meet Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes. "I—I got her pregnant. She lost our baby because of _me_ , it's my fault! I've endangered Tonks' life by just being near her, and now she…she…"

"Tonks cares for you greatly," Dumbledore replied softly. "I can see it in the young woman's eyes that she loves you, and you her."

"I do," he admitted gruffly, not wanting to discuss it any further. "But if I were to pursue this again, to take a chance on us, what if whatever child that might come along next is born a monster, like its father?" he bellowed, not caring if his voice carried and she heard.

"You are no monster, Remus Lupin. Do not let a label define you. You are a brilliant man, an uncommonly kind one at that. Your condition is not your fault. The blame rests solely with Fenrir Greyback," answered Dumbledore curtly, and there was no mistaking the hardening, stoniness of his voice. "I do not believe your condition is genetic, Remus. I think that you are perfectly capable of having a family with Miss Tonks. If she truly makes you happy, don't let her go," he advised somberly, the light in his blue eyes dimming.

"But she—" Lupin's voice faltered as he lost himself to Dumbledore's gaze, who looked as though he had more to say.

"Forgiveness is a letting go of all negative emotions and memories; it is moving on with whatever positives remain. If nothing remains, then the relationship was all negative - abusive, even if invisibly so. For many years I had punished myself for my own failures, feeling that if I forgave more fully then love would blossom; yet in truth it had never been there at all. The guilt of failure, the weight of accusing tongues, took me into a living nightmare - and my mind conjured them as grotesque bodies under ice. Yet when I learned what forgiveness is, there was nothing but water under my ice, everything was crystal clear. I had loved them, yet they had never loved me. Forgiveness brings the liberty to love again, to heal the heart, soul and mind. You can take a chance on love again. You just have to forgive yourself. Something tells me that she already does. Your relationship, if you should so desire, has the ability to be rekindled. I can tell you both love each other more than anything."

"We do." Remus was surprised to hear himself confess it. "But it's too dangerous, Dumbledore. I won't put her life in danger again."

"All it takes is a tiny flicker of hope," Albus continued. "That's all one needs, really," he murmured, waving his hand as if to prove his point, conjuring a small ball of flame that he held in his hands, absentmindedly stroking the flames with the tips of his fingers. "Just a tiny flicker against the wind is more than enough. Love can conquer anything, Lupin. I'm sure you already know that, but I thought I would remind you," he said somberly. "I think that what you need now more than your request to infiltrate Greyback's camps is over there. She's the one you should be discussing this with, not I."

Allowing the ghost of a tiny smile to cross his withered features, Dumbledore rose his feet, though not without great difficulty, and vanished on his heel with a loud crack as he Disapparated instantly.

Remus was left alone to watch Tonks kneel by the grave of their son. He stood, stowing his wand in the pocket of his pants, heading towards the one love he would never quite get over, and after his conversation with Dumbledore, he quickly realized he did not want to. As he headed towards Tonks, he did not know why he felt yet again drawn to this celestial-like woman, but as his feet walked of their own accord, he realized it was helping him to find his resolve.

Moss-laden marble pillars stood as despairing guards on either side of the cemetery threshold. Behind the ancient wrought-iron gates were rows upon rows of crumbling gravestones, their engraved epitaphs bathed in light spilt from an ashen moon. Gnarled trees hunched over most of the expanse, plunging the rest in shadow. The place echoed with painful grief and the emptiness of heartfelt loss.

Tonks blearily glanced up from her spot where she knelt by the grave. Remus noticed it was unmarked. "What was his name?"

She coughed once, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. "I—I don't know. I couldn't stand to give our son a name," she choked, her voice hoarse and barely audible. "It would have made it…too real." Her voice was now a whisper. "When you left, I—I kept going into our room and checking on your clothes, and Molly said I had to get rid of them all," Tonks explained, and he recognized her voice breaking. She stood, wiping her hand on the skirts of her dress.

"Dora," he started to say, but he knew nothing he could say would ease not only the pain of losing their baby, but at seeing him again.

"I knew you'd come back, because you left all your sweaters at my flat, and you love your sweaters, more than anything in the world." At this statement, a ghost of a smile crept onto her face, but just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. She bit her lip and swallowed hard. "I kept going into our room and…checking on them. After a week, Molly suddenly said that I had to get rid of them all. So I remember folding them all very neatly a—and I kept hoping there was going to be a—a secret note, or something, written to me and just to me, explaining to me some secret reason why you _had_ to go, you know?" she shouted, tears pouring down her face now.

Remus said nothing, too heartbroken and stunned to say a word.

When he finally found his voice, he wasn't surprised to hear the tremor in his voice as he fought back his own wave of tears. "You can yell at me if you want. Scream if you have to. But…talk to me, Dora."

"I mean, I still have this uncontrollable urge to just go up to people and say, 'My boyfriend left me after I miscarried our baby!' And that's as if that'll explain everything!" she shouted, shoving him backward slightly as he advanced upon her, seemingly wanting to offer some words of comfort. "I miss you….and I _hate_ you! And I miss you!" she shouted, her tears streaming down her pale cheeks as she sobbed. "And I feel it, I can…I was on a train and it crashed or something, and no one came and rescued me." Tonks had always been so self-conscious when she cried but now, she just gave way to the enormity of her grief. She sobbed into her hands and the tears dripped between her fingers, raining down onto the parched soil.

Her breathing was ragged, gasping and the strength left her legs. She sank to her knees not caring about the grit that dug into her knees. She was noisy, her skin was white but there was nothing Lupin could do for her now. She could run a mile in any direction and not find another soul. She cried until no more tears came, but still the emptiness and sorrow remained. There was nothing left, nobody left, no reason to move. Blearily, through her haze, she lifted her head.

"Why are you here?" Her voice was hard, bitter, and angry.

"No parent should ever have to bury their child." That was all it took for his tears to come. When he cried there was a rawness to it, like the pain was still an open wound. He would clasp onto something for support, anything, in this case it was Tonks, and then his whole body would shake. The sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his grief, then overcome by the wave of his emotions he would break down entirely, all his defenses washed away in those salty tears. When he at last turned his face to Tonks he was a picture of grief, loss, devastation. It was the face of one who had suffered before and didn't know if he could do it again.

Then, just when she thought the breakthrough would come and he would trust her with his vulnerability, the shutters would come down, his emotion walled off behind a mask of coping. He would just wear it until everything was right again, he didn't know another way.

"There's something else, Dora," Lupin murmured. "I spoke with Dumbledore. There—there's no reason why humans and werewolves, there's no medical reason why they can't marry, assuming proper protections are put in place and... So…if you and I ever decided to…have a child one day, it would probably be okay. That's sort of comforting," he managed, angrily wiping his tears away with his sweater sleeve. Instinctively, he reached for her hand. She didn't protest as she held his hand, her fingers interlocking with his, her grip so tight that, for a moment, Remus thought his fingers might break with how ironclad her grip was. In Tonks's sobbing was the sound of a heart breaking. Hearts don't snap like brittle caramel or burst like an overfilled balloon. A heart breaks in the heaving waves of a new disturbing reality that has arrived uninvited. It is the one in which their child no longer lives, or their partner is terminally sick. It is entering a life they could not bear and so they break. They aren't the same again, there's just a part of them that had to die so that the rest of them could carry on their duties to the other people they love. So, as he watched the love of his life shake with grief, tears flowing unchecked, there was part of Lupin breaking too. If she wasn't the same, then neither would he be. That's what happens when you love someone, right? Their happiness is a part of your own, as theirs was part of each other's.

With each whispered word... a piece of Tonks's heart broke. After an hour, he walked away, her happiness in his pocket. No longer was she on her feet, instead rooted to her spot by their son's grave, her mind devoid of the light he'd given. Her thoughts fell into an endlessly repeating loop, "Why? Why leave? Why? Why leave?"

In the half-light, Remus looked like the shadow he's become. Tonks watched him leave, not bothering to Apparate, instead choosing to walk, his hands buried in his pockets. Tonks wanted to beg, to plead, to stay on her knees like this by the grave of their son and tell him that his life with her has meaning, that their love has meaning, and that nothing could break it, but she knew better. She knew that face. It was the one he wore when his ears were closed, and his mind and heart had put up barriers to all-new information. Tonks was forced to listen as he informed her that he would be going underground, back towards Greyback's encampment again. Tonks wished him well with the voice that came so naturally before his grand plan to get away from her by going after Greyback.

Her voice sounded like her, but it wasn't. She was already in transition to become a person she never wanted to be. The bitterness was rising like bile in the back of her throat and when he was gone, she would have no reason to swallow it anymore. It was because of Remus John Lupin that her heart shattered into a million pieces. If only she could make him see that he was being foolish. Tonks had known that to love deeply meant to risk great pain, but she had never imagined there would be a pain any greater than this. The tears were not quiet and controlled, they fell as fast as the fall rain and she sobbed to draw breath.

Her lungs heaved and she knew there was no cure for her heart. Tonks had never looked at another, wanted another, but Remus. Her love had departed, and she was forced to find a way forward. Remus was alive but gone. Tonks stayed head bowed until her face had been dried by the wind and her composure regained. It was her pain and she would keep it; it was the intensity of this heartache that proved the strength of their bond and she could not bear to feel less. She lifted her chin to the breeze, gray eyes closed, to just feel the wind.

She hoped that one day, he would come home to her.


	15. Pruning the Tree

** Chapter 14: Pruning the Tree  **

****

Wes didn’t know how he’d gotten here. One minute, he’d been standing guard, talking to Alpha, then next, brought here against his will via Portkey, under orders from Master Greyback himself. The entrance hall was roomy, airy and eerie. An uneasy breeze blew down the corridor and grasped Wes with its chilly touch. Its fingers circled around his body, tenderly fondling every inch of him, pulling his shoulders tight together as he huddled into himself for warmth. It was an eerie feeling. He felt almost violated by the wind.

The furthest door from the young werewolf had been left ajar, allowing a glorious amber glow to meander like a narrow stream across the hall. His mind told him not to move, but his body dragged him to the light like a moth to a flame. Every step he took was met by a discordant shriek from the worm rotted floorboards coated in dust.

In minutes, the room was dark once more and a fire crackled in the hearth of their newfound sanctuary, the home of one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted followers, but who it was, Wes didn’t know.

He didn’t _want_ to know. Wes could feel the heat as the floorboards creaked behind him. He turned and immediately stiffened. There sat a woman in an overly large red leather armchair.

Her dark curls cascaded to past her collarbones, ending at her breasts. Even in the dark you could see her, like a shining beacon.

The white creamy tone of her skin reminding him of whipped milk as moonlight shone through the window and on to her. He couldn't help but wonder if he reached out, would he only graze air.

As if she were nothing but a ghost. The woman smiled at Wes.

Wes instinctively shivered. “Welcome to our home,” she smiled, though it did not reach her dark, heavily lidded eyes. “And to yours.”

He didn’t answer, unsure of just how to respond. “Who…?”

“There is no greater pleasure than to host the Dark Lord’s best and brightest in our home.” With an ashen face, Wes let his eyes roam the room for escape options. The floors here were solid oak plank beneath the dust, the walls were brick behind plaster. There was the front door, the window and whatever lay behind him in the kitchen. Before he’d even made it two steps away from this woman, whoever she was, his legs locked straight and the young, dark-haired werewolf fell harder than a stone statue onto his face, tasting his own blood that pooled on the floor. He spat off to the side, disgusted.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he called out hoarsely. “Not a nice way to treat your house’s so-called ‘guests.’ What’s the Dark Lord going to say when he finds out you’re hurting Greyback’s top lieutenant? You hurt my feelings, you—you _bitch_!” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the woman, who once upon a time, might have been quite pretty, even beautiful perhaps, lovingly twirl her wand in her fingers, and then, when she lifted her chin to meet Wes’s yellow eyes with her brown orbs, he knew her. _Bellatrix Lestrange_ , he thought wildly, swallowing hard.

“SILENCE, DOG!” the woman bellowed, crinkling her nose in disgust. “You stink of old wet dog smell. You reek, boy,” she growled. But still, the dark-haired woman did not move a muscle.

Wes’s nose had swollen to the size of a baby yam and his face was disfigured from the fall. As Bellatrix Lestrange rose from her chair, wand in hand, Wes quickly set his face to ‘casual indifference.’ His only way out of this was for Lestrange to overestimate his skill level, to assume his lack of fear came from mastery, instead of raw nerve.

After a few moments, poor Wes felt himself lift into the air and rotate until he was upside-down. Blood rushed to the already angry wounds and began to drip freely. The witch was lazily raising her wand, muttering an incantation under her breath. “Take a look.”

Wes glowered, which only fueled the sorceress’s ire even worse.

“The _pictures_ ,” she growled, waving her wand, causing Wes’s body to contort and jerk uncomfortably, his head swiveling to look.

A flick of her wand and at once the dim room was bathed in a steady, ethereal glow. There were oil paintings all around. The woman was in a good number of them, and they had to be ancient in their gold gilded frames. In each one of them, the woman standing before him now was a beautiful young woman, dark locks cascading in graceful ringlets, in gowns of a deep beautiful emerald green, not the black rags she currently sported. “If I bring you down, will the puppy play nice?” Wes let out a guttural warning growl and felt his head bend unnaturally into a nod three times. He wanted to speak, but his voice died in his mouth, rendering the wolf quite speechless.

Now Wes sat opposite the witch, who smiled at her and magically produced a deck of cards. He felt the boards beneath his dried skin and practiced looking out of the corners of his eyes. Maybe he could make a plan without being detected. The glass was single pane.

It would hurt like hell to be cut but once outside, he could Disapparate, grab Norah, and flee to France like they’d planned.

Then without meaning to, his eyes went to the fragile pane. At once, his neck and head became rigid, frozen, no doubt the result of an Immobullus Freezing Charm. Bellatrix clucked her tongue.

“Tsk, tsk. I did warn you,” she chuckled, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “Now look what you’ve gone and made me do, _beast_.” The window became a wall. Wes felt his head being turned towards the door, and then the door too became a wall.

He twisted to face the stairs, then those disappeared as well. The kitchen entrance became an iron grill, medieval and black. “Now, pay attention, dog. We have a little game to play. The stakes are high.”

Bellatrix offered a twisted, lopsided grin, shuffled the deck and expertly dealt the cards, no magic. “This is my favorite part,” she said, as if they were watching some sappy Muggle movie, like the kind his Norah loved so much. Wes felt his arms become free and he raised a trembling hand to his face. It was a mess. Hot tears sprang from his eyes, washing some of the drying blood back into his mouth to settle on his tongue. “Take a card.” It wasn’t a request, but a command.

Without any conscious thought from Wes, his hand obeyed, turning over the King of Hearts. Bellatrix Lestrange opened her mouth, but instead of the wicked giggling coming from her, it radiated from the walls of the den. “The king dies,” she said coyly. “But don’t worry, I’ll bring you back for the next hand,” Bellatrix taunted him.

Wes opened his mouth, and this time his scream came out strong and short. His arms and legs became under his control again and he ran around the room, wildly searching for an exit. He’d have Disapparated in an instant, but the spells on this house were strong.

There was a trap door he’d not seen before. The bolt slid back as if it were only installed the day before, and he ran downstairs, almost falling in his hurry to escape, the wicked woman’s laughter echoing.

Wes swore under his breath as he fumbled for his wand, and he realized he didn’t have it. “Where’s my wand?” he shrieked, frantically patting the pockets of his jeans and his jacket for it.

“Gone,” came the woman’s voice from above. “Snapped in two.”

“Shit!” he swore underneath his breath, cursing the Lestranges.

The basement was pitch black. Wes was as blind as if his eyes had been gouged out. His body washed cold. He brought his fingers to his eye sockets, they were still there, thank Merlin! He turned back to the stairs and tried to run up, but his foot fell through each one like it was a mere projection. So how the hell had he walked down them, then?

He leaned forward to touch the stair and felt a fabric fall down his arm, soft and velvety. Cold metal touched his forehead, one grope told him it was a pointed hat, like one of those old crowns of old.

Wes grabbed it and a mirror appeared in front of him, glowing.

It was him all right, broken face and all, dressed like a king. He swallowed. ‘The king must die,’ isn’t that what Bellatrix had said?

Without sight of any knife in the mirror, the image began to bleed from the neck. He raised his hand to feel the sticky warm fluid down his throat. Wes let out a horrible scream, unable to repress it any longer. The image laughed, and in a blink, he was in his dirty jeans again, back upstairs, facing Bellatrix Lestrange at the round table again. “Choose another card,” she grinned, shrugging her shoulders.

Wes’s mind was starting to fail, like one of those Muggle engines that turned over and over, since Norah’s people couldn’t travel by broom, Floo Network, or Apparition, they had to rely on old cars.

He couldn’t formulate a thought. Every action could lead to more pain and there was no way out of this godforsaken evil house. None.

No way out. Wes brought his hand up to his throat. No blood.

The werewolf glanced at the floor, no trap door. His eyes went to the walls, the windows and doors were back, the iron grille gone. He breathed. There was a chance, albeit a slim one. This bitch had limits. Maybe the window was always there, even if she made it look like brick. Outside was night now. Norah would panic if he didn’t check in with her at their appointed time. His people would find her.

All he had to do was stall. He turned back to Bellatrix and swallowed nervously. “It’s getting late, Miss Lestrange. I do not wish to trouble you anymore. Perhaps I could return with the others tomorrow?” Bellatrix Lestrange smiled at him like an angel, and it was very disturbing. It was a look he never wanted to see on her face.

She cackled, waving her wand and the playing cards disappeared.

“How long do you think you’ve been here, pet?”

“An hour?” he guessed, not really wanting to answer this woman.

“Try two weeks,” the witch grinned, revealing rotting teeth. “The neighborhood that you live in was plastered with your photographs. Your parents split. Your kid sister is on drugs. Apparently, your little condition left quite the hole in their lives. They hate you. _Beast_.”

Wes would have responded, were it not for the ropes that materialized out of thin air that rendered him immobile, tied to his chair, a gag over his mouth. Wide-eyed and horrified, he froze.

He tried to form words, a scream, a shout, anything. Nothing.

“Settle down!” shouted a male’s voice, his master’s. Greyback.

Greyback and his other top lieutenant, Alpha, a burly wolf that could have been a great Auror in another life, entered. They looked thoroughly displeased, and not because of Bellatrix’s treatment.

“I _hate_ it when they die too son, but bad dogs must be punished,” sighed Bellatrix, fingering her wand lovingly, crossing her legs and draping them over the armchair lazily. “Wouldn’t you agree, dog?”

Greyback let out a low warning growl from the back of his throat.

“I know what you’ve been doing, boy,” Greyback snarled, baring his canines, pulling back his teeth to reveal his sharp incisors, yellowing gums. His yellow eyes met Wes’s, and Wes visibly flinched.

Sensing that the young wolf wasn’t going to talk, their leader frowned. He snapped his fingers irritably and Wes’s heart broke.

Norah’s hands were bound behind her back, a gag in her mouth. Her brown hair fell loose in gentle waves around her shoulders, her dress ripped and slightly bloodied. A purple bruise was beginning to yellow and age above her left browbone, and a black eye on her right.

“You know,” Greyback crooned, kicking over a spare chair and straddling it backwards, his chair only inches away from Wes. “I was going to kill your pretty little wife, but I just can’t,” he murmured, almost sounding regretful. “I am your worst nightmare, kid, because I know it isn’t your own pain you fear. You fear the pain of those you love the most. Isn’t that right, boy? Did you think you could hide this from me?” he bellowed, rising his voice an octave and backhanding him so hard that the young wolf’s chair toppled over. He kicked it.

Wes let out a horrible holler, muffled through his gag.

Greyback snorted and rolled his eyes. “I never take out a worthy adversary until they cease to try. But their loved ones are fair game. This little bitch reminds me too much of my last mate to just kill her.” Fenrir sounded far too calm for Wes’s comfort. He was planning something. He toyed with a lock of Norah’s hair tenderly.

One of his hands drifted towards her lap, wandering slowly up her thigh, up the skirts of her dress as he forcefully shoved her into a chair. “I dreamed so long of taking those the wizard world loves the most and savoring the moment. I dream of teaching them who the smartest one really is. The deaths of those you cherish is my reward.”

Norah struggled against her bindings, but it was no use. She let out a tiny, muffled shriek through her gag as Greyback toppled her chair over with a swift kick of his boot, and that’s when the man’s lips clamped down on her ear. They were light at first, then he bit down harder. Norah Jameson struggled against the wall, her eyes darting back and forth, wildly searching for something, anything to help her.

The teeth turned into a tongue. It slid over the rim of Norah’s ear and caused her to visibly shirk away from Greyback’s touch as best she could. Two rough hands slid down her sides and landed on her waist, just above the knot of her dress. She didn’t know what to do.

Norah hoped this was all some sick joke, a cruel nightmare. The werewolf’s lips moved down to her neck and nipped at the tender skin there. She was only barely conscious of Wes’s muffled screams.

She knew this would be bad. Her skin bruised so easily, and the Muggle woman knew this man would leave marks that she did not want, and when Wes saw it, well…his temper was going to implode.

Norah let out a tiny squeak through her restraints, screaming through the gag as Greyback wrestled her to the ground until he was able to flip her violently on her back, his face only inches from hers.

His fingers curled and fisted into the back of her hair.

“Has your husband ever taken you, girl?” he taunted, whispering it into her ear. He seemed surprised when Norah nodded her head. “Do you like it when he does? Do you scream his name into the night, sweet thing?” he asked, cupping her chin in his hand, forcing Norah to look Wes in the eyes. “Don’t bother lying to him. It’s a bad way to start off a marriage. You _watch_ this, boy. There’s no way you can keep her satisfied in bed, kid. Watch your pretty little wife become a woman now,” he whisper-hissed through his teeth.

His coarse, whisky tongue licked at her skin, stubby fingers curled in her hair. Every time Norah closed her eyes, Greyback bashed her head backward onto the hardwood floor, demanding she open them.

She didn’t want to. Anything rather than watch his face light up with power and lust. He became angry, his force less controlled, until finally blood ran from the back of her head onto the floor of the den.

Her head lolled like a doll, but he had finished with her anyways.

He snorted and whispered close to her butterfly stud earrings.

“Dead’s better anyways. Great ride, doll face.” He stood, adjusting to his full height. “That’s _enough_!” he bellowed, raising his hand to Wes again, who continued screaming and shouting obscenities through his gag, not giving a damn what happened to him anymore.

A beat. A pause. When it became clear to all the parties the young man was not going to calm, his strong hand cracked across Wes’s face, snapping it back with the force of his blow, causing his head to reel sickeningly as it slammed into the floor. When black dots quit covering his vision, Wes was jerked violently upright, brought to stand in the middle of the room with the werewolf holding his arms tightly behind his back, the pain of his hold causing poor Wes to let out a horrible cry of pain, and this caused Bellatrix to burst into delighted laughter, continuing to finger and twirl her wand in delight.

Fenrir let out a tiny sigh, almost sounding like he was regretting what he was about to do. “Just so you know, boy, this isn’t personal.”

He gave a curt nod toward Bellatrix Lestrange, who raised her wand, pointing it at Norah Jameson’s chest. “Avada Kedavra!”

In his intense silence, Wes somehow screamed with his whole body. The eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile, the fists clenched with blanched knuckles and the nails digging deeply into the palms of his hand.

The scream tore through him like a great shard of glass. He felt his eyes widen and pulse quicken, his heart thudding like a rock in a box. Wes’s distraught scream came again, terrified, human…

The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was just gone. Wes paused trying to hold back the strange feelings rumbling inside him, but he couldn’t. A lone tear traced down his cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened. So many tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face. He breathed heavier than he ever had before. He was gasping for air that simply wasn’t there. His throat burned forming a silent scream. Is this what crying felt like? A part of him dying inside yet, relief…

“I just showed you what happens when you cross me, kid,” Greyback growled, turning towards Bellatrix Lestrange, watching as the briefest flickers of disgust crossed her once-beautiful face as she violently kicked aside the Muggle girl’s corpse. “Test me again, I dare you. Let’s see how fucking proud you are then,” he spat, disgusted.

He gave a nod to Bellatrix and she lazily waved her wand, ropes binding Wes and suddenly he felt himself being lifted in mid-air. “Take him down below,” ordered Greyback. “I’ll deal with him later,” he snarled, letting out a low growl. “In the meantime, feed the girl to the others. She’s good meat. No point in letting her go to waste.” Wes heard Master Greyback’s words, but barely registered them. He cried like there was too much raw pain inside him to be contained. He cried like his spirit needed to break loose from his skin, desperate to release an elemental rage on the world. The words of Alpha made no difference at all, as Alpha and Bellatrix were the ones to lead him to the cellar down below, to be thrown in a cage.

Wes was beyond all reason, beyond all methods of calming. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his whole face was red, and he screamed at the very top of his lungs. His upper body and shoulders wracked with every sob that forced their way out, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he gasped for breath, and he clenched his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists, each time he threw his head back to let out a blood curdling scream in between his steady stream of tears.

Alpha knew that sound. It was more of a howl, one of loss.

Wes had managed to calm himself down long enough to hear the sound of Greyback and Bellatrix conversing amongst themselves in low tones. “The Dark Lord says we’re to prune away parts of your family tree,” he growled. “Cut away the parts that threaten the growth of the rest,” Greyback snapped, sounding like he was highly amused.

“My sister and her little _brat_ ,” hissed Bellatrix. There was no mistaking the hatred in her tone. Wes could imagine the angry, red flush creeping its way onto her cheeks. “I plan to deal with my niece.”

Wes wondered if he could lose his humanity in a single moment. Or could he get it back in an instant? Was humanity something that could leave him behind forever? Or really, had it always had a deep place inside of him all along, even after his transformation? Even when he swore it wasn’t there. Some of their clan showed it more than others. Some of them, like Wes, blocked it out completely.

Master Greyback had just killed his wife, the only good thing he had left in a cruel life of isolation, and Wes knew that he was now hardly human, the mean thoughts of revenge flitting through his mind. Did he still even have humanity? Did he still have a soul?

He had been human once. Maybe he’d been a human the entire time. Maybe he had blocked out all his humanity so he could taste the only thing he now craved: Revenge. Wes knew in this moment that he had lost the right to be called by that title, a human. He wanted nothing more than to rip Greyback’s throat out, watch him bleed out. A human stopped being human when they lost their humanity. It took Wes exactly five minutes for him to lose his.

  
  
  



	16. Hope for the Holidays

Lupin raised a gloved hand to shield his eyes. He had anticipated the coldness and the sting of driven snow on his face, but not the ferocity of the wind and how the light blinded him. It was like walking into a fresh page as the fibers are still being laid down, threatening to make him part of the scenery instead of a person in his own right. All he could do was to bow his head until his chin touched his chest and keep walking. Though his feet were beginning to freeze, and his footsteps were small, sinking in past his ankles with each stride, he knew that each step took him closer to the warmth of the Weasley's Burrow. So long as he stayed on the right path, it was only a matter of time before he was inside the warmth again, near people who cared.

_Aren't you forgetting someone? There's someone left who cares. She loves you more than anything, and you'd really do this to her?_

Molly Weasley's voice rang in his ears, refusing to part from his thoughts. Irritably, he brushed away her words with a curt wave of his hand, raising his knuckles to the door and knocking, not having to wait too terribly long as Mrs. Weasley flung open the door, looking quite festive in a beautiful red sweater overtop her house dress, and a pair of sparkling diamond earrings and a necklace. "Aren't they beautiful?" she gushed lovingly, not even bothering to offer Remus a cordial hello by way of greeting. "Fred and George gave them to me."

Remus nodded, too cold to speak and was ushered inside.

Molly had barely closed the door behind her when her eyes narrowed as she watched Remus shrug off his coat and sit by the fire.

The smells of a roasting turkey and other food wafted through the Burrow. "Where's Tonks? I thought for certain you would have gone to see her, Remus?" she asked casually with an air of indifference.

"She's got her own family to go to on Christmas, hasn't she?" he asked, wanting to avoid talking about the love of his life as long as possible. "I…went to her flat earlier, but she wasn't home, so…I'll try again later," he lied, knowing full well Mrs. Weasley saw right through him. "Besides, it's getting late," he added, glancing at the clock on the wall. All the Weasleys' hands were still pointing towards mortal peril.

"Hmm," she murmured thoughtfully, pointing her wand wordlessly at the fireplace. Sparks shot from the tip of her wand and lit a roaring fire in the hearth. "Perhaps," she continued, reaching up a hand to tuck a stray red curl behind her ear. "I spoke to her earlier and was under the impression she was planning to spend today alone. You really think she should spend Christmas Eve alone, Remus? After everything she went through, the poor child needs company."

Mrs. Weasley let out a huff of frustration at Lupin's silence, noticing how the man stiffened almost militarily and became rigid.

"You made yourself look bad, Remus," she snapped, waving her wand and pulling up a chair to sit by the fire to talk to Lupin. "Here, give me that," she grumbled, motioning to the bowl of cashews on a nightstand near Remus. "Pass me a nut," she growled. "Thanks," she murmured half-heartedly as he did so. "Had I known you were that bad with women, I would have changed your entire strategy to something where you didn't talk," she taunted, noticing the dark look in Lupin's eyes. "Merlin's beard, Remus. I'm not going to lie to you," she said through a mouthful of nut, waving a hand around the room in exasperation. "This is a _tragedy_ , Lupin." She fixed the embarrassed wizard with an icy stare that was unlike her personality. "You've got _one_ more chance to make things right, Remus. Tonight."

The guilt sat not on Remus's chest but inside his brain. What he had done to Dora he could not un-do, no matter how hard he wanted to. He could make amends in subtle ways, but only in his silent prayers could he speak his heart to her and beg for her forgiveness. Lupin did not feel as though he deserved Tonks' love, but still, whether he liked it or not, he clung to it and hung the shreds of his sanity on that little flicker of hope Dumbledore had mentioned to him. He prayed that one day he would feel removed from what he had done, but the guilt of their breakup at a time when she'd needed him the most was a stain upon him, another ugly scar in his wretched life. He had to believe that one day, she would forgive him, but…

Remus let out a tired sigh, knowing full well Molly was right.

"We'll be back. You're right. As always," he snapped, not hesitating to grab his wand. "Accio!" He caught his coat in mid-air and shrugged into it, wrapping it tighter around himself for warmth. "Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley paused, glancing back over her shoulder, something akin to pride mixed with sympathy in her kind eyes. "What is it?"

Lupin hesitated, biting his lip before answering. "Thanks."

"Anytime, dear," she said, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I hope you can convince her to come for Christmas dinner." Remus gave a curt nod and Disapparated on the spot with a loud crack. "Merlin help you both," she murmured, a note of hope in her voice, before the sounds of the twins erupting into an argument with Ronnie and Ginny called Molly's attention back to the kitchen.

_Go get her, Lupin_ , Molly thought, and she spent the rest of Christmas Eve in a dazed distraction, holding out hope for them.

_Bring her home_.

* * *

They say we live in the moment, that the past is always gone, and each day is something new, a steppingstone into a future we dream of even in the cold. For Tonks, that stone was snow, that is those wintry days of bluster and ice. The Auror saw the earth of yesterday covered as white as any new page and the toddler in her rose as if armed with a rainbow of crayons, eager to set that right. Yet today, she was content enough to simply walk in it, create a few footprints of her own, her black boots leaving prints in the snow. Tonks watched them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. Yet for some their destination is to come to her hand, to alight upon these ungloved fingers and let her warmth be their spring melt. Allured by the scent of freshly baked Christmas cake coming from a neighboring bakery amidst the bustling streets of Hogsmeade's Christmas Market, Tonks took her lingering gaze off the enormous Christmas tree adorned with glistening ornaments and glowing fairy lights draped around it. Strolling alongside the magnificently structured buildings of Hogsmeade, the young witch watched as people swarmed in and out of the bustling shops and bakeries like bees.

As the evening sky faded away, the pink and orange hues were replaced with dark shades of blue, whilst the amber light of the streetlamps spilled on the stone-paved streets. In turn, the elegantly decorated, wooden stalls slowly revealed their hidden wonders attracting long queues of bustling customers. The festively designed stalls, illuminated with blinking Christmas lights, vibrant ornaments and brightly colored signs, were lined up along either side of the street and had varieties of delectable treats, jasmine scented fragrances, skillfully hand-crafted greeting cards and unlimited choices of gifts to customers occupied for endless periods of time. The warm smiles of the people behind the stalls as they tossed freshly roasted, golden brown chestnuts into paper cones or carefully poured creamy hot chocolate into mugs and added generous layers of whipped cream, was returned by the beaming grins of the children who were eagerly waiting to get their mug. The energetic youngsters giggling at their creamy chocolate mustaches were followed soon after. The loud, spirited laughter of adults could be heard over the continuous chatter surrounding the vivacious atmosphere.

Tonks tugged at the front of her red turtleneck sweater dress. Paired with a pair of black tights and knee-high black heeled boots, she thought it looked festive enough. She'd tried so hard to get her pixie to revert to its usual pink color. The best she could do these days was a few magenta colored streaks, almost a plum in color.

Tonks let out a heavy sigh, doing her best to avert the gaze of all the couples strolling through the streets of Hogsmeade holding hands. "I—I didn't mean to…chase you away," she whispered, hoping that wherever Remus was, he could hear her, somehow. "It's just that everything was happening so quickly, you know, and I…I really do like you," she said shyly under her breath, pausing to stare up at the Shrieking Shack, a cold chill traveling down her spine. She clutched the strap of her small black purse to her shoulder that much tighter.

"I like you a lot. And I never…I never want to hurt you." A beat. A pause. "I think I love you," she whispered, her voice cracking.

Tonks knew full well she was depressed, ever since Remus left. Depression is like the friend visiting from out of town. It doesn't just come and go. It stays for a while, spending time with you or in other words, not leaving you alone until it decides for itself when to leave. It strips you naked, revealing every deep part of you no one else has ever seen. Depression takes away your happiness and keeps it for itself. Depression only wants to be with you and gets too jealous when you're with other people. It tells you that you're not allowed to have other friends except for itself. Until one day when you learn that this 'friend' is controlling you and learn to push it away, it goes back to where it came from. But it still exists and can come knock on your door occasionally. The blizzard removes the illusion of her eyes.

With sight, Tonks knew she was not alone, she was one of many in the world and the world is full of interesting things to see, to touch to feel, to keep her mind anchored in time and space. But as the white flakes whirled around her in an angry vortex, the young witch felt as alone as she would be in the bleakness of space and cold, so cold. Tonks reached out with a gloved hand to guide her way, but it was swallowed before it had gone even a few inches. To save her eyes from the blinding white she had to narrow them until they are almost shut, and all the while the wind rages without end, only reducing its ferocity long enough to gather the strength for another attack. All her heart can do was beat warm blood around her veins in a hope that the storm will end, all her mind could do was plan the most logical path to warmth, safety and to something more tangible than light and snow. Tonks let out a gentle shudder, turning on the heel of her black boot, turning on the spot and Disapparating, back to her flat.

Whatever she came for, wasn't here. Tonks let out a yelp of surprise to see the stooped figure waiting on the front steps of her apartment. The man lifted his head, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh. It's you. Tonks stowed her wand back in the pocket of her black pea coat. "I thought, perhaps…" Her voice trailed off, and she didn't finish her sentence. She reached out a hand to help him up.

Remus lowered the hood of his coat, not caring that snowflakes gathered in his light brown hair or on the shoulders of his jacket.

There was such a pained look in his eyes, she couldn't stand it.

Remus had trouble finding his voice. He thought she was looking stunning in a simple red turtleneck sweater dress, black tights, and black knee-high heeled boots, a black belt around her waist to give the outfit some shape, shrugging into a black pea coat for warmth.

"Merry Christmas, Dora," he whispered, his voice cracking as he stood, seemingly ashamed and afraid to meet her gray eyes with his.

Tonks bit her lip, fighting back tears. "Why are you here?" She visibly flinched at how harsh her voice sounded. "It's Christmas."

Remus wordlessly waved his wand, saying nothing. He gave a tiny jerk of his head upwards, motioning for Nymphadora to look up.

She looked and was startled to see mistletoe hanging above her doorway of the front door to her flat. "That's cute," she grumbled.

But she was hardly given a chance to argue further, to open her mouth to tell him that he should head back to the Burrow, to the others. Tonks hesitantly looked up at him. The swirls of emotion she saw there made her gasp. Lust and desire. However, before she could ponder about it further, he yanked her body to him and covered her mouth with his in a hungry kiss. As their lips crushed together, Tonks felt like she was walking on air. It was magic, the way his lips connected with mine. His mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer than she could have imagined, even after all this time apart, and she opened her mouth with a low moan, letting him in.

He broke their kiss first, stroking her cheek with the pads of his thumb. "I've missed you." There was no mistaking the genuine pain in his voice. Tonks swallowed hard, fighting back yet more tears.

She hesitated, unsure if she could even speak the truth around him anymore. If she said what was really on her mind, he'd leave again. "No one helps," she answered, her voice numb and flat. "They only make it worse for me. Depression isn't something you can't put a salve over and say it'll be okay. Because, news flash! It won't!"

Tonks hurried down the steps of her flat, starting to pace back and forth. Back and forth she went on the sidewalk, the heels of her black boots making clacking sounds as she walked. "Depression drags you into this pit and never lets you go!" Tonks cried unhappily, running a hand through her light brown hair streaked with pink, still self-consciously tugging at the hem of her red sweater dress. She briefly wondered if Remus would think it was too short, but then she remembered. He'd always admired her legs, and even if he did, he didn't want her anymore. He'd made that perfectly clear when he left.

"Dora…" he started to say but seeing the look of utter heartbreak and anguish in his love's eyes, his voice faltered, and he fell silent.

"No matter how hard or how long someone's rope is they throw to get you out, something always cuts the cord, so you plummet back down to the ground. You get hurt with each attempt to get out, more and more dirt and filth covering you as try. Why can't you see that?"

Tonks stopped pacing, irritably brushing off a few snowflakes that had landed in her pixie and scowled, a look of immense hurt on her beautiful features. Shockingly, there wasn't a slope in the sidewalk she had been stomping over, much to Tonks's surprise. "There is no bandage large enough or absorbent enough to cover this wound."

Her voice took on a gentler approach. "And I…I just want to let it all go. I don't want to be stuck in this godforsaken pit anymore. I want to be free," she cried, her voice breaking, tears in her eyes.

"I want to help," Remus said, gingerly coming over and laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know that what I did to you was wrong. I…" Lupin turned his head away sharply. "I love you, Dora."

"I know, and that's what makes it worse," Tonks said softly. She sniffed once or twice, turning away from him for a moment to compose herself. "I want to be happy again, but without you, I can't find it. It's like I'm playing hide and seek with someone all the way across the world and winning will let me be free. It'll never happen."

"Did you not hear me?" Remus demanded, his tone growing clipped and hard as his hand drifted to her waist and settled there.

"Oh, I heard you all right," Tonks said, lifting her chin and jutted her chin out defiantly, her gray eyes growing cold and steely in her anger. "How did you want me to react?" she asked, echoing the words she'd said to him that fateful night they met, when he'd revealed to her the nature of his lycanthropy. "Shall I cry? Were you not listening to me just now, Rem? Help doesn't work—" Tonks was silenced by Lupin pulling her into a hug, gentle but firm enough.

"Shush." Remus hushed her, before moving his finger, and pressing his hand against her cheek, giving him more support to push himself towards her, and connect their lips again. His lips were firm against hers, but the kiss remained soft, gentle, slow. Perfect, really.

They held it like that for a few seconds, before their lips began to move in perfect sync, slowly, cautiously. He exhaled through his nose, not wanting to let go of this perfect woman encircled in his protective grip. This happened every time he was around Tonks.

His entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, combined with eccentric panic, and lust. Remus moved his hand from her cheek to back of her head, his fingers entangling in the short locks of her pixie, which was flickering between the light, mousey brown with the streaks of burgundy pink, back to its pink.

Like she was unsure if she could be happy around him or not.

Lupin pulled her into him, adding more pressure to their lips, slanting her head to the side, deepening their kiss, desperate for it.

He broke apart at last but did not relinquish his grip on her shoulders. Tonks was looking dazed and confused, her cheeks flushed and high with color, her gray eyes half-lidded. "I'm going to help you, sweetheart. I'll climb down into this pit myself to get you out if I must. I want to see you smile again, Dora, and will not take no for an answer. Now, either I sleep on your couch tonight, or you can come back with me to the Burrow. The others, Molly and Sirius and Dumbledore were right," he confessed, his tone pained, as he ran a hand through his brown hair flecked with the beginnings of gray. Tonks was stunned and speechless. No one was ever this forceful about the topic. Whenever she said no, they just brushed it to the side. Lupin took her dazed silence as his motion to continue talking.

"You're far too important to lose. No one—especially not me, should ever leave you alone again. I—I was wrong to leave you, love."

"What…what are you saying?" Tonks asked, her voice timid.

Lupin hesitated, wanting to say what was on his mind, but wanted to wait for the right moment. "Do you want to talk a walk, Dora?"

"I…" Tonks lost herself momentarily in his brown eyes. Remus's eyes were bewitching; it was as if their roasted-coffee-bean rim had diffused into a cream hued iris - mixing until it was the color of sun-dried beech wood. "I'd like that," she said shyly, taking his hand.

Tonks and Remus didn't speak much at first, just content to savor the moment and enjoy the sights of London at Christmas.

The former Hogwarts professor saw what the Auror who had stolen his heart was looking at and once his gaze drifted towards where her eyes were drawn to, he smiled, his first genuine smile in a long time. The pier was home to a permanent fun fair, waves splashing below, a winter breeze permeating the air, the London Eye decorated with lights for the holidays. Lines of children snaked away from the ride, eager eyes, impatient feet, and ready smiles. The smell of frying donuts filled the air. "Want to go up, Dora? I haven't been up in years," he suggested playfully, unable to hold back his grin, making him feel years younger as he lost himself staring at her smile.

Tonks blinked, looking startled. "Up there?" she squeaked, pointing a hand to the London Eye.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, his smile faltering a little as her smile faded slowly.

"I uh…" Her voice trailed off as she glanced down at her boots, the color rapidly draining from her heart-shaped face. "I'm afraid of heights, Remus. Of all the stupid things to be afraid of. I'm a great flyer, but…that? I don't know…" she confessed, summoning the courage to lift her chin slightly to meet his gaze. _Oh, God_.

To her relief, he was smiling. Tonks barely had a chance to react as Remus inched closer towards her, placing his arm around her shoulder and she leaned closer to him. The softness and gentle touch of his hand against her neck made her back tingle, sending a shiver down her spine. "Just don't look down," he advised. "And if you fell, I'd catch you. And if I missed for any reason, I'd sit by your bedside and nurse you back to health. With your instruction, of course," he joked. Tonks momentarily became distracted by the smell of the frying donuts wafting in the air, filling her nostrils, causing her stomach to elicit a low, rumbling growl. "Wait here," she ordered.

Remus let out a light chuckle as she sauntered off towards the vendor, dipping into her purse and pulling out a few Muggle notes for the man selling the donut, returning with a huge fried chocolate chip donut for the two of them to share, occasionally ripping off a section and feeding it to Lupin. They fell silent for a few long minutes, glancing up at the sky as they waited in line for the ride, looking at all the stars and trying to find constellations. Remus and Tonks didn't speak because in their own way, they were already communicating. A startled shout from a kid broke them out of their moment, as they got in line for the London Eye, the line slowly inching forwards bit-by-bit.

"Are you serious, Robert? No!" he shouted at another kid as he waited in line in front of Remus and Tonks for the Ferris Wheel.

Tonks craned forward to see and chuckled. "That's Henry, one of my neighbors and his friend," Tonks muttered quietly, chuckling at Lupin's bewilderment as they fell silent and listened to the two boys chat. "When you go down to the sewers, you're splashing around in millions of gallons of London piss, did you know that, Robert? It's unsanitary!" he shouted; his face red, angry.

The other boy laughed. "Doesn't smell like kaka to me, Henry, moron," he chuckled, his smile wicked.

"Okay, I can smell that from here!" Henry said.

"It's probably just your breath wafting back into your face!" retorted the boy haughtily.

Henry bit his lip, seeming to need a minute to calm himself. "Have you ever heard of a _staph_ infection?" he bellowed, irate at his friend's lack of knowledge. "This is _so_ unsanitary, when we go down there, it's like swimming around in a toilet bowl! Have you ever heard of listeria disease?"

Tonks couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing. Her laughter was kind, coming when the smile of her eyes overflowed into the cold winter air. As soon as Remus heard her giggling fit start to consume her, her soft expression of joy at one of his son's rants, they were as much as a gift for him as they were to her, a sign of their growing bond. Tonks didn't know why she found herself laughing so hard at Henry's listeria comment, but suddenly, she couldn't seem to stop. Her breath came in quick gasps between unstoppable giggles. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over if she couldn't get herself under control. She reached out for something to grab onto to steady herself as her shoulders shook and was surprised to find herself in the dockworker's arms. He was looking at her in a way she wasn't quite sure how to gauge, perhaps equal parts admiration and equal parts confused, maybe. "I—I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting Henry to know so much about listeria. The neighbor's kid has a potential future in our healthcare system if he plays his cards right, or maybe a risk analyst if he doesn't want to do healthcare," she apologized, letting out a tiny snort and turning away, still giggling. "I—I can't. I've always hated my laugh, it's horrible."

Remus didn't think so. As soon as he heard her start to laugh, giggling through her nose, and let out that adorable little snort, he began to fall that just that much harder for the young nurse. Tonks giggled harder as Robert said something else that she didn't catch, and Henry was spouting something about the drainage system in London, and all the germs, her laugh the sound like a brook flowing merrily through a well-lit wood. Her laugh was a waterfall.

Remus began to laugh with her, they were still laughing over her neighbor's antics with Robert when finally, it was their turn to board the London Eye. "You'll like the view, Tonks, I swear it. Tell you what. I'll make you a deal to sweeten the odds. If I'm wrong, you don't have to let me take you on a second date, just the two of us. But if you _do_ like it, then I get to take you on a date next Sunday, just the two of us and I pick where we go," he promised. "Just hang on tight and don't look down," he said, stifling a triumphant grin as the nurse nodded and clutched his arm tight in a vice grip. He stared for a moment before bringing his gaze back up to hers to shoot her a bashful smile. "I promise. It's worth it." He fell silent and waited for Tonks's reaction. Remus Lupin could see it in Tonks' eyes that she hadn't been anticipating he would want to see her again, but he knew as soon as she had been standing by their son's grave all those months ago, that he wanted to, Dumbledore was right, and that desire became solidified as soon as she'd laughed at this kid's hypochondriac ways, finding nothing wrong with the boy or his unusual quirks, but she could not have been more wrong then.

"Did you…are you and I…?" Tonks asked, hesitating. "A couple?"

Lupin froze, hearing the fear and apprehension in her voice. He let out a tiny sigh, instinctively reaching for her hand and settling it on his lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Yes," he answered simply. "Dumbledore and Molly were both right," he confessed, his tone pained. "I'm tired of trying to deny it and hide the truth from myself."

Tonks captured his lips with hers, getting lost in his lips again, not giving him a chance to finish his sentence, but he didn't care now.

There was something about Tonks that made him feel so young inside, but not in a childish way. She woke the pure side of him, the best side, all the facets of himself that only required love to be healthy and whole, and she genuinely seemed to care for Henry, the way she gently tapped him on the shoulder and offered her a neighbor a disinfectant wipe from her purse so his son could wipe down the seat before sitting down on it, much to the ride attendant's disdain, claiming it was holding up the line process, but Tonks shot the man a dark look, and he immediately fell silent, for which Remus was grateful and stunned. The last thing he wanted was her temper flaring and having to Obliviate the memories of all these Muggles. Should he be lucky to have an eternity with this woman, Remus would sink into serenity, just content to be close to Tonks and keep her at his side, if she would allow it. Their energy together seemed to vibrate in such a unique way, each the perfect complement of the other, or at least that's how it felt to the young werewolf. Occasionally, he'd catch her excited glances at the skyscrapers and tall towers of the city. He noticed affectionately she was actively avoiding looking down, never once relinquishing her grip on his arm, for which he was secretly glad.

"Whoa," she whispered breathlessly when the London Eye finally reached the top and stopped. "It's beautiful up here. You know," she joked, glancing back towards Lupin, whose eyes were fixed on a different view. _Her_. "I've lived in London my whole life, and I've never ridden this thing once," she teased, sounding ashamed. Tonks blushed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Remus smiled, hoping it was a comfort. "Really? Is it your fear of heights?" he asked, his interest piqued. He couldn't remember the last time he'd talked this much, asking her all her favorite things and committing them to memory. What her favorite color was (purple), to her favorite food (Italian), to her favorite animal.

But Tonks shook her head, suddenly looking wistful. "No," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "I just…" She bit her lip and looked away for a moment, seeming to need a minute. "Never really…got to come up here with the right person." Her words touched his heart, and Remus knew in that instant as they looked at each other, their eyes silently communicating without the need for either of them to say a word to each other, that he was simply "in love," as those cheesy Muggle movies like to think happened at first sight. No, Remus Lupin was well and truly smitten with her.

Any other could only be a poor reflection, no more substantial than a shadow of the real thing. He felt the blossoming of something warm begin to spread throughout his chest, realizing Tonks was what made his heart strong. Her smile alone was enough to burnish his soul into a beauty it could have never achieved on its own without her. Before he had laid eyes on her, he was one, now he felt like he was a half, or at least he hoped it was heading in that direction. Only time would tell. Yet somehow, so much more than he ever was before without her. He hoped that, in time, she would feel the same for him, as he seemed to be developing feelings for her. It was odd for him to make a connection this quick; he'd be the first to admit it.

With Tonks though, it was different. "So?" he asked, barely suppressing his grin as he watched her take in the view of the city at night. "What do you think? You like it, don't you?"

"Yes," she agreed, nodding shyly. As she scooted a little closer towards him, his pulse raced. A small lock of hair tumbled in front of her face, resting just in front of her cheek, but with one swift slide of Remus's thumb, it was brushed out of the way. Looking into his eyes, Tonks saw deep pools of brown that displayed his soul, and she took a deep breath, steeling her nerves, but more importantly, she had to do this. _Wanted_ to do it. Her lips touched Remus's cheek. Time halted to a stop. His heart came to a stop and his breath caught in his throat. He reached up his hand and their fingers locked together like puzzle pieces. _A perfect fit_ , he thought, amazed at all of it.

As the soft skin of her mouth left the side of his face, the exact spot where they had encountered, his cheek tingled and burned. A hot blazing fire pulsated through his entire body, so much that he didn't seem to notice the cold December air. A small grin crept onto his face and his cheeks painted themselves rose red. He pulled away silently, but their eyes locked, having a private conversation of their own as at last the London Eye returned them to solid ground.

When she kissed his cheek, Remus knew there was more to it, for Tonks to get so intimate, there had to be a pressing reason, especially on a date that he wondered if this meant they were back together again. He hoped so. Then he heard her speak, barely a whisper as she drew back and smiled. "In your pocket, Remus. Meet me at Honeydukes to take me on that second date next Sunday, yeah?" she whispered, shooting him a brief wink before reaching up on her tiptoes to give him another peck on the cheek. "It's getting late, you should head for home. I had a great time with you tonight," she admitted shyly, shifting her purse to her other arm. "Come see me tomorrow if you want, Rem. You know where to find me."

She turned away before he could think to reply; her black pea cot and red sweater dress melting into the dark London side streets, still in a slight daze from the kiss on the cheek she'd given him.

The kid from the ride, Robert, noticed and nudged him.

"Next Sunday, eight o' clock!" he called out. "I'll pick you up, if that's okay!" he hollered, suddenly feeling foolish for yelling it halfway down the way. He cringed, hoping he hadn't ruined it.

Tonks turned, flashing him that brilliant smile of hers that he so desperately wished he could see more of. "I'm looking forward to it," she grinned, shooting Remus and Henry a shy wave. "Bye, Rem, Henry," she chirped, giving a curt nod to her next-door neighbor.

"Wait!" shouted Remus, suddenly confused, one of his hands outstretched as if he thought that could prevent her from leaving. "What did you call me, Dora?" he asked, feeling slightly aroused.

"Rem," she answered, grinning. "It suits you; I think. You need a nickname, Remus! Well, see you!" she chirped, disappearing into the side streets of London to head for her apartment.

Remus fell silent, an odd little smile creeping onto his face as he watched her silhouette disappear slowly down the avenue, watching her leave, already looking forward to next Sunday. Tonks seemed to be so proud of her short hair, but it wasn't the best thing about her. No matter color she chose, most of the time it was a dark magenta pink, it always flattered her pale skin, so striking that it was the only thing anyone ever commented on, he could tell by the looks she'd gotten tonight. But Remus barely noticed it. He could drink in her words like a strong wine and enjoy feeling tipsy. He watched Tonks like she held the stars in her hands and soft petals at her feet when she walked, each step deliberate and graceful, like her.

He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. But first things first, he had to take her out on a makeup date, just the two of them on Sunday, and his nerves were so bad, he shook at the thought. The Muggle boy, Henry, was the first to break the silence.

"Well, that went even better than I expected!" he laughed, earning a startled look from Remus. "Oh, Miss Tonks has told me all about you, mister," he said. "Me dad's a Muggle, Mum's a witch," he explained. "I'm a half-born," he said happily, noticing Remus's look of relief as the kid watched the older man's shoulders relax. "Relax."

Remus nodded, that odd little half-smile on his face as he watched Tonks disappear down the street, choosing to forsake the easy way of transportation in favor of walking, to savor the Christmas Eve night.

Suddenly, he realized he was being utterly foolish. Muttering a curse under his breath, he turned on his heel and Disapparated just in time to beat Tonks back to the front door of her apartment.

Tonks looked startled, but she said nothing as he took her hand, wordlessly leading her inside, back towards her bedroom.

Before the door had even closed, Lupin wrapped his arms around Tonks from behind. One inhale of his musky scent, and she wanted to turn around. His right hand dropped to her thigh, pulling up the dress that flattered her figure so well, he thought. Tonks couldn't move even if she tried, like his fingers had short circuited her mind in the best possible way. He turned her around and he shoved her onto the bed, tumbling to the mattress, his eyes searching hers. Tonks smiled and kissed him back as he knew she would. With her lips she could feel his mouth stretching wider than it should, fighting between his urge to smile and continue kissing.

They'd done this so many times and it kept on getting better.

In that moment Tonks's insecurity comes back for another bite and so she turned to Lupin, "Is everything okay, really?" Lupin stopped fumbling with his shirt, clawing at it in a passionate frenzy to remove it. She squirmed slightly underneath his weight as he shifted slightly to accommodate her. Her words gave him pause. He looked at her with that serious look that still had his trademark warm eyes, "So long as you're by my side, sweetheart, the rest of the world can go to hell." And that's just what she needed to hear, that he was hers for now and into the future... that there will be a future... one she could survive. He pressed a gentle trail of kisses down her neck and collarbone, before pausing to whisper into the shell of her ear. "Merry Christmas, Dora. I didn't want you to spend Christmas alone," he whispered tenderly, nipping the cartilage just slightly, careful to mind the tiny diamond stud piercing, as it was still tender and freshly pierced. "Can we try again?" he begged, not caring how desperate he sounded. "I…I love you."

"I love you too," Tonks whispered. "I'd like that." His brown eyes, like the cool boughs of the trunks of an oak tree on a summer's day, the earth after a summer rain, bore into hers, searching her gray eyes for the truth, for some reassurance that what they wanted was right. Tonks was momentarily tempted to stop what they were doing and tell him the truth, that she loved him more than she did herself, but the desire was interrupted as he nuzzled his face into her neck, and she grabbed at his hair, clinging to it tightly, burying her face in the crook of Lupin's neck. For Remus, he'd never wanted or needed another but Tonks. The more he moved once inside, the harder it became for them both to speak as they lost themselves to the sensation of loving each other. He didn't care if all of England ended and burned in a terrible fire, as long as he was moving inside Tonks when it happened. They loved each other, and that was good enough for them.


	17. Marry Me

The spreading purple with yellow blotches near her left eye was only the surface wound. _For what we love, we protect, right?_ The real one though was in her heart, feeling Lupin's betrayal of her love yet again. He'd left her yet again, shortly after Christmas, claiming he was too dangerous, and that she would be much better off far away from him. Tonks had responded in kind with a well-aimed Bat Bogey Hex.

The young Auror knew in the moment, he had been simply reacting, locked down in his brain, to his limited viewpoint of how he believed the world to view a man afflicted with his lycanthropy, a condition which was not nearly as bad as he made it out to be. Every month without fail, she made him the Wolfsbane Potion, and she would continue to make it. Tonks hoped that the day would come when Remus would come back to his senses, able to use his higher thoughts, to see that he was the one she loved, more than anyone else in the world. Even more than herself.

The witch let out a heavy sigh, sharply turning her gaze away from the mirror, anything to avoid looking in the mirror at her reflection a second longer than she had to. Tonks wondered if once the bruises healed, if she should seek safety with a man who had never caused her such pain, a person she could wholly love and be loved by, sharing a bright future. Tonks scoffed as she glanced towards Lupin, knowing that such a thought was foolish, and if she was _truly_ being honest with herself, the only one for her was sitting right next to her, actively averting her heartbroken eyes. She should have known it would be too good to be true. Though she and Remus had rekindled their relationship following Christmas, he'd fled almost immediately afterward for retreating underground, to try what he could for Dumbledore to infiltrate Greyback's encampments. Though she knew the truth. He volunteered to stay away from her, claiming he was, once again, too old, too poor, and too dangerous for her.

"Bullshit," she muttered darkly, pure venom in her tone. Lupin shot her a dark look though he did not offer a retort, scolding her for her language, for once in his life since the two of them had known each other.

Tonks thought this war had grudged on for far too long now. Her sanity felt on the verge of extinction. Perhaps that was a good thing. At the very least, she'd be allowed to leave this nightmarish dystopia. As she glanced around the grounds of Hogwarts, all she could see was injured people and dead creatures—once fine, promising students, now no longer recognizable. But especially poor Bill Weasley, who currently lay mangled, no longer recognizable as a human. She was trying so incredibly hard not to stare at his face, but she kept finding her eyes had diverted toward it.

One moment they were obediently fixated on the spot on the wall behind him in the Hospital Wing and the next they were rested on the bloody mess that had been a perfectly ordinary face only hours before, so ordinary in fact, that Tonks could not quite recall what he looked like.

A deep wound was practically sliced in the flesh of his face, beginning diagonally near the eldest Weasley twin's right brow bone, snaking its way down towards the curve of his lip. Permanent. No amount of salve or potions that Madame Pomfrey could apply would fix what happened.

The injuries were heavily oozing out blood and there was a bluish-purple bruise forming around it. His fiancé, Fleur, lightly pressed her index finger against the center of the cut and sucked in a sharp breath.

Thank Merlin Bill was currently unconscious. The pain he must be feeling in the moment, Tonks didn't even like to think it. She'd noted several times over the course of the evening since they'd converged following the ambush's end, Remus's gaze flicker towards hers several times, though for the moment, Tonks actively avoided his piercing gaze.

Fleur and Mrs. Weasley, as usual, were arguing. Tonks let out a heavy sigh and returned her attention towards the two women. It was only when Mrs. Weasley burst into tears and enveloped the beautiful Veela into a hug that Tonks finally realized what the two had been discussing all along.

"You see!" she cried, her gaze settling and locking onto Lupin. She furrowed her brow into a frown and narrowed her eyes. "She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten. She doesn't care, and neither do I? You blind, bloody fool, why can you not accept that I love you, Rem?"

Lupin's face drained of color, and his posture became rigid in his seat as he unburied his face from his hands, still struggling to process the fact that Dumbledore was well and truly gone. "It's different," Remus said, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense, refusing to meet her gaze. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely diff—"

Tonks balled her hands into fists, bolting so fast from her chair beside Bill's bedside that she almost overturned it. There was a scream from deep within that forced its way from her mouth, as if her frustrated soul had unleashed a demon. All she felt towards Remus was anger, that she did not want to be friends or lovers with anyone at all, because then she wouldn't have to trust anyone and continue to get her heart ripped out.

It would be safer, easier to choose not to stay. And she knew she was hiding a truth from herself, of how much of this shit really had to do with sadness and the scars inflicted upon both her and Lupin's hearts, wounds that just would not heal. Her teeth locked up and ground once the sound was out, and she moved so fast and pushed Lupin up against the wall near the door, seizing the front of his robes and shaking them, one hand pinned to his shoulder to prevent his escape. What was once peaceful became polluted with rage. Everyone in the room tensed, although a quick glance over towards Harry's way told Tonks his mind was working on overdrive to put the pieces together, and that he'd had some kind of revelation by the way his eyes lit up behind his glasses. Whenever Tonks got going, there was no escaping it, leaving only made her ire even worse.

"I've told you a million times I don't care either, I don't!" she bellowed. "You—you insufferable idiot, Remus John Lupin, I swear!"

She clenched her jaw shut, her gray eyes narrowed to slits, her frustration and tension in her shoulders mounting as Remus refused to meet her gaze, instead staring at the floor. "And I've told you a million times," retorted Lupin calmly, though just underneath the surface, his tone was hard and clipped. Tonks recognized he was losing his patience. "That I am too old for you, too poor…too dangerous. It's—it's not safe, Dora."

Tonks was a hair's trigger away from reaching for her wand in its holster she wore strapped to her thighs, her black skinny jeans ripped and torn, results of the battle, but nothing a quick charm later wouldn't fix.

Thankfully, Molly spoke up, sparing the Auror from jinxing the man.

"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," piped up Mrs. Weasley over Fleur Delacour's shoulder as she gingerly patted her on the back, still looking quite taken aback of the turn of events. She fixed Remus with her trademark cold stare and waited.

"I—I am not being ridiculous," Lupin began steadily. "Tonks deserves somebody young and whole," he replied, glancing towards the Weasley's, gingerly prying Tonks' hands off his robes, stepping away from her.

Mr. Weasley gave a light shake of his head in disbelief. "But she wants you," he replied, with a small, sad smile, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Can't you _see_? After all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so," he answered, gesturing to his son behind them.

"I…this is not the moment to discuss it," Lupin snapped, avoiding everyone's eyes as he looked around the hospital room distractedly, absolutely refusing to meet the eyes of the woman he loved. "Dumbledore is dead…" A new voice spoke up from the hospital wing's doorway.

"Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think there was a little more love in the world," said Professor McGonagall curtly, her arms folded across her chest as she fixed the young couple with a smile.

Remus froze, feeling as though he'd been doused in ice-cold water.

Dumbledore's words that day in the graveyard rang in his eardrums.

_If you truly love her, don't let her go. All it takes is a tiny flicker of hope. Just a tiny flicker against the wind is more than enough. Love can conquer anything. There are more dreams to come for you and her. Sunshine on rainy days, laughter, and love. I wish you both happiness, joy, and love, something our world these days needs a little more of, I think_.

With one look towards Tonks, Remus knew the verdict was told. She had been reflecting longer than usual, past the point at which she always came back with an apology. Remus's face fell as Tonks locked her eyes on his. They were the ones she reserved for the dark wizards she arrested, a hateful distain. But it was more than that. There was a tenseness she wasn't even trying to mask. He backed away, nothing about this was making sense, not her curling fists or the anger that radiated from her pale skin.

Tonks's face drained of color until it was practically chalk-white, not sticking around to see what others thought, perhaps realizing she'd made a grave mistake in her public declaration of her feelings for Remus. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the hospital wing without so much as sparing a second glance to Remus, or Bill, or Molly, or anyone else.

Remus knew those angry eyes were her pain untold, and he wished he would tell it. He wanted nothing more than to be hers in any storm, but there was one thing he wanted, only one thing he asked of her, to help him stay safe from them. He wanted Tonks to let him in all the way so that she always trusted him, and he would only ever see those kind, bewitching gray eyes of hers, the ones that were his home. Because he wanted to stay.

"You know what?" he growled, turning on his heel and following her, wondering which corridor she'd disappeared to. "The others were right," he grumbled, more to himself than to her. "I'm tired of this, Dora."

Remus found her at last, sitting on the bench of the courtyard, overlooking Hagrid's hut. If Tonks gave any indication at all that she heard him approach the bench where she sat from behind, she made no comment. She bit her tongue, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to leave her eyes. When Remus gingerly laid a hand on her shoulder, that's when she swung around and mentally broke, unable to hold back her tears. First, one small crystal bead escaped from her right eye. She could feel the warmth sliding down her cheek, rolling off her bruised chin.

Then another. And another. Until her eyes flooded with them, coming like a downpour. She sniffed once, coughing, covering her mouth with the back of her hand to quell her tears, but they continued to fall, and she let them. "What do you _want_?" she demanded angrily. "I don't need this right now," she cried, angrily brushing away her tears with a flick of her wrist.

"I—I'm sorry, Dora," he apologized, sounding pained.

"No, you're not, Rem. You never think about _anyone_ but yourself, so _please_ , just for once, can you just let me be miserable and not make me feel any _worse_ about myself?" Her face crumpled and she turned away.

"I don't…" Remus did not know what to say to her anymore.

"Just _go_ _away_!" she bellowed, her outburst startling a few pigeons.

What he said next surprised even himself. "No." His voice was cold.

Angered, she jerked her head up so fast, he was surprised she hadn't given herself whiplash. She opened her mouth and prepared to scream at him, her fingers hovering over her wand, twitching slightly, prepared to draw if she needed to, but Lupin did not give her a chance to consider it.

"You—you insufferable idiot, do you have _any_ idea at all what you _do_ to me?" he growled, catching her head in his hands and kissing her. Startled and caught completely off guard, Tonks's eyes widened before she closed them and allowed herself to get lost in his succulent kiss. His kiss was not innocent, but hot, fiery, and possessive. Tonks wanted to pull away before she lost herself, but she couldn't seem to. In this moment, her senses had been seduced and she could no longer think straight. He pulled apart, both pads of this thumbs caressing either side of her face. "Dora," he whispered slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them.

Before her, he had never wanted any form of eternity until now. He never saw the point. But he wanted her to stay, to be in love with him.

For her to be brave enough to take his hand and never let him go.

"Dora, you're too naïve! Too sweet for your own good, even when you're angry and cuss up a storm, I—I can't get enough of it. It's—you're infectious, being around you is contagious. You see the best in everyone, even a monster like me that does not deserve your love or friendship! How would you know what it means to love?" he shouted, unable to stop his heartache from erupting. "I've been in love with you ever since you tripped over that damn umbrella stand in Grimmauld Place but I—I didn't know it then. But I know it now, and I'm not going to let you disappear on me again. I won't. How well you come to know the person, how easily you'd be able to hurt them by just a harsh word or the simple matter of not being in their lives anymore! How many times you _did_. Losing our son, that should not have happened. You left me with barely enough life in me for more stories! You and I, we're barely lovers! Admit it!" he shouted, not sure where his temper was coming from, but if he couldn't reign his emotions under control, he'd have a very serious problem.

_The last thing I want is to fight with you, Dora. This isn't us_.

"Dora—" he started to say, but she cut him off, ranting.

"No, Remus, you shut up and listen to me! This is the part where you apologize to me for what you just said to me, Remus. It's breaking my heart to see you this way. I can't stay here and watch you kill yourself like this! It breaks my heart to see you this way, Remus. I want you to be happy, Remus. I can be that for you, but only if you let me. The only person I care about in my _goddamned_ life besides myself is standing right in front of me!" she wept, angrily brushing away her tears with a gentle finger. "But you've been too blind to see it for yourself," she spat, fuming now. "You've always been blind, Remus. Blind and stupid, you fool, but I love you for it just the same," she sniffed, coughing as she lost control of her emotions.

Remus fell silent, stunned. He hadn't known. "Dora…"

The Auror shook her head as she scoffed and turned away, not wanting to cry in front of her best friend. "You know what?" she growled darkly. "It's fine."

"No, it's not Dora. I—I can't do this anymore!" he shouted.

Confused, she turned. She quirked her brow at him. Were this any other situation, Remus would have laughed at his friend's nonplussed expression. "What do you mean?" she asked, frowning. "Remus…?"

"I won't make the same mistake with you that I did the last time," he found himself saying, his voice pained. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he moved closer to Dora and rested his hands in her lap, effectively pinning her to the bench. "I won't. I can't do that to you, and it isn't fair to me," he confessed. "I just…the one woman that showed me kindness, you brought me back from a place I never want to go back to again. The woman who showed me what it means to love again, is sitting right in front of me, and I'd be a fool to let her walk out of my life." Dora tilted her head as she watched him, surprise building in her eyes. He could see hope and love there. "I poured my heart out to you. Tell me what you think, Dora."

"Remus, what are you saying?" she asked, nervously laughing. "You—are you serious right now? You're not joking? Tell me the truth!"

Remus paused, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves. "I just…what I have to say isn't easy for me, I—I've struggled with it for months on end, the better part of a year, and I don't…I love you, and I hope that it's my job to protect your heart, always, Dora. I really hope that it is, love," he managed at last, tripping over his words. He cringed at the awkwardness of it all and fell silent, waiting and watching for the Auror to react to it all.

"What?" Her kind voice was barely a whisper, hardly daring to believe what he was saying. So long have I wanted this…

"I've been thinking about something, Dora," he said suddenly. "What's your favorite story? Favorite book?"

She stared at him quizzically. "Okay, if we're going here, I guess. One of your favorites. _The Tale of Beedle the Bard_."

"If it was great, you probably loaned it to someone, right?"

"Yes, I—I loaned to Ginny not long ago so she could read it, and Remus, where the hell are you going with this?"

"You probably said to yourself, I wish I was the person who hadn't read it in the first place, so I could experience it over again, right, Dora? Correct me if I'm wrong," he said excitedly.

"Yeah, I guess so," she admitted, surprised.

"Well that's how I think we should approach this."

"Ah, what?" she managed, shocked, her gray eyes wide. "I don't understand," she admitted, incredibly confused. "Remus?"

"I've spent my whole life running from love, afraid to take a chance on it again. On you, on us. I don't want to be alone the rest of my life, and I don't want to mess up what you and I have, not this time. Not with you. You…you've always been the one for me, sweetheart. Our future life together, how wonderful would it be to experience love all over again with the woman I love for the first time? Same for you too, I imagine. The dashing man of your dreams, and all," he teased, a playful smirk forming and a brilliant twinkling sheen in his light brown eyes, the inferno in his eyes burning bright, the hottest she'd seen.

Tonks smiled, a beaming, radiant smile on her lips.

"Like reading your favorite book all over again for the first time," she said excitedly, taking his hands in hers and giving them a tight squeeze. She fell silent, studying him carefully before breaking into a wide grin and laughing. "All right," she admitted at last. "You win. I'll give us a shot."

Remus looked into Dora's gray eyes and saw surprise mixed with adoration and the beginnings of a burning love, hotter than a thousand suns, and if he didn't look away, he was going to be burned, just as Icarus had when he flew too close to the sun. But if flying close to the sun meant he could be with Dora; he would burn every day for the rest of his natural life. "But Remus, what about…what about your work? Greyback's camps?" she asked, glancing back out towards Hagrid's hut, at the smoke plumes lazily coming from the chimney. The sight had somehow always managed to soothe her. "I know your life spent working for the Order hasn't been all for nothing, you can't just…throw all this away just for me, Remus!"

Remus laughed. "I just _really_ desperately need to kiss you right now, Dora," he joked, leaning in for a quick kiss. "I tried to fight these feelings for the last several months. I've tried running from it, but I can't. And I'm tired of trying to be something that I'm not. I'm not a priest; I was foolish to think I could hide behind my lycanthropy forever. I…I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Dora, if you'll have me, love. You mean far too much to me to just let you walk out on me again. No. You're stuck with me, love," he teased playfully, reaching up a tender hand to cup her chin in his hand. _To think I almost threw all of this away_ , he thought.

Tonks fell silent, just watching Remus. Her friend was looking at her with a baffled expression on his face, and for the first time, uncertainty at what he'd stumbled into, unprepared for the whirlwind of emotions running through his mind. His brown eyes were lost and confused, and…and…slightly aroused.

_That's one thing about you I've always admired, Remus,_ she mused, quirking her brow at the handsome werewolf. _You always know what you want, and when there's something you want, it's yours_.

Still, she tried again. "But are you sure? I can't do that to you, Remus."

"Dora Tonks, you are insufferable, woman. You…you impossible idiot. Don't you know?" he growled darkly, catching her head in his hands and kissing her. Dora started laughing inexplicably, her laughter making stutters of her kisses as she kissed him back, feeling her cheeks flush hot as his kiss deepened. Was it all just a dream? No, it was really happening. When she kissed him, Remus's brain went numb and he could think of nothing else as his entire body lit on fire and warmth spread throughout. After that, he became addicted. Remus couldn't bear not to be with Dora, and he could hardly breathe when she was around. Her kisses were his salvation and his torment. He lived for them, always. His hands wrapped around Tonks's waist and hers locked around his neck, pulling him closer to her. When they broke apart for air, she rested her forehead against his and gathered much needed air. His smile told her everything and she returned the gesture, sinking into his hold.

Tonks hesitantly looked up at Remus. The swirls of emotions in his blue eyes made her gasp. Lust, desire, and love. Before she could ponder it further, he yanked her forward and covered her mouth with his in a hungry, demanding kiss. As their lips met, it felt like she was walking on air, dancing among the clouds in the heavens. _It's magic_ , she thought. _My love for him is his new magic, his new story. He is my heaven and I can be his for all eternity_. His mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer and gentler than she could have imagined, and Tonks opened her mouth slightly with a low moan, inviting him to continue.

For Remus, their kiss obliterated his every thought. For the first time in a long time, Remus's mind was locked into the present, not the past. The worries of his day evaporated, and his usual mode of hurrying from one thing to the next was suspended; he had no wish for this kiss to end. Drunk on endorphins, his only desire was to touch her, to move his hands under the fabric of her black sweater and feel her perfect softness. His smile faltered and the light in his eyes seemed to dim.

"I didn't mean to walk away from you. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do," he answered thickly, slightly angry. "I have no intention of letting that happen again, Nymphadora Tonks. You and I, we're meant to be together, and it's time we both stopped trying to deny and make excuses why we shouldn't be together. Life's too short for these mistakes, and Lord knows I've made enough of them in my lifetime,"

He hesitated, a pained look in his brown eyes as he looked at her.

"Remus?" she asked, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"My life is worth nothing to me if you're not by my side," he began. "I just…there's something I need to ask you, and I'm not entirely sure how you're going to react. And this time, I'm going to do it the right way. Dora, I know you face an uncertain future with me, but I want you to know there's one thing I want you to be certain of, and that's that I will always be by your side, and I will never give up on us. I hope that it will always be my job to protect your heart. I have a question I need to ask you, and I don't know what your answer will be, but if I don't ask it now, I never will…"I keep falling in love with you as the days pass, and each time is harder than the last. Every time, my love for you gets deeper, more complete, more bewitching. There isn't a thing I would do to keep you safe. Don't ever think you have to ask for my love and affection, because you don't. The more love I give you, the more I have. I've lived long enough to know that what you and I share, I can't replicate with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and me. I could travel the entire world, and I'd still have to come right back here to you if I wanted true love. You and I, we're the protectors of one another, confidants and best friends. The trust I give you, that you give me, is what keeps us safe in a world that's dark and cruel to us both."

He took a deep breath and stepped back, running a hand through his hair nervously. _There's no going back after this_ , he thought, looking pained, as he looked at swallowed and continued. "Whether my heart beats for another day or another hundred years, it's yours." He stepped back away from Tonks and knelt on one knee and unclenched his fist. In his hand was a beautiful elegant moonstone ring, glittering and sparkling even in the night. "I don't want to lose you," he said carefully, studying her reaction and noticing her breath catch in her throat. "I almost lost you once, and I've no intention of letting that happen ever again. I love you, Dora. You, you bring light and happiness into my life when I thought I'd never find it again. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you. A life without you by my side is not a life worth living. Will you marry me?" he asked, his gaze meeting hers as he tried to determine her reaction. "Marry me, Dora," he said quietly. "You would be making me so happy by becoming my wife, sweetheart. Too long have I lived alone, and my life isn't worth living if I can't share it with you by my side, love."

She fell silent. "What?" she asked, stunned and at a loss.

"I know I'm risking so much by asking this of you," he said, his gaze never wavering from hers, a terrified look in his eyes. "What you and I would be risking taking a chance on love. But there's no one else I'd rather take that leap with than you. So, what do you say, Dora? Will you marry me, Nymphadora Tonks? Will you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?"

Tonks was losing her sense of self in his eyes, drowning in the brilliant sea of brown. "Yes," she whispered, still in shock. Remus grinned, looking truly happy for the first time in a long time, not since Christmas. He gently placed the ring on her finger and stood, his mouth covering hers in a passionate kiss that neither of them wanted to end. Tonks broke apart and took a moment to admire the simplicity of the ring. "This was your mother's?" she asked, thinking she already knew.

He nodded. "Yes. He told me to take care of you. I aim to keep that promise the rest of my life, love," he promised.

She grinned up at Remus and felt a huge weight lift from her heart. "Well?" she asked, holding out her left hand so they could both admire the ring, how the gold shone in the light. "How does it look?"

Dora grinned as Remus kissed her forehead. "You look good wearing my future," he said, and her heart melted. She took a seat on a stone bench and stared out at the starry night sky. The Auror suppressed a pleasant tremor as he reached up a gentle hand and absentmindedly played with a few strands of her now vibrant pink locks, her pixie returned to its usual pink hue. "You've bewitched me," he said, taking her hand in his, just content to sit with her in the winter silence.

"Do you remember the night we met?" she asked, a light igniting in her gray eyes. "I couldn't stop staring at you, all during the night. Your eyes," she said, her voice low and husky as she stared at him. "Your laugh," she teased, quirking her brow suggestively, her hand on his chin as she leaned in to kiss him. When they broke apart, there was a mischievous glint in his brown eyes that she hadn't seen in him since Christmas Eve night. "Come with me," he said, taking her hand, and Disapparating with her. "I've waited too long for this."

"Where are we going?" she called out, but he didn't answer. He didn't speak much on the walk back once they'd reached the front step of her apartment, drawing the curtain back to her bedroom that separated the rest of her—now their—bedroom from the rest of her flat. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her up close against his chest, her hand splayed across his chest, the other lingering on his waist. His hand gently glided through her hair as he looked into her eyes. Dora's gray eyes were candles in the night, their light a spark of passion and desire. As a small but teasing smile crept onto her face, goose bumps lined her skin, not the kind that one gets in the cold or when afraid, but the kind one gets when nothing else matters except right here, right now. In the room that is twilight and shadow, Remus stood close enough for her to breathe in his scent. His arms wrapped around her back and in one gentle pull, their skin touched.

Tonks felt his hand in her hair, how he loved the softness, one hand pressing tightly against the back of her head, finding purchase in her hair as he kissed her passionately, and they started to move like partners in a dance. Their bodies fit together as if they were made for this, to fall into one another, to feel their natural rhythm. With a laugh, he lifted Tonks right off her feet, carrying her towards her bed, setting her gingerly on the mattress. They locked eyes for a moment, just enough for them to feel safe with one another. Remus took his time undoing her jeans, his hands wandering as he unzipped her jeans, shimmying them off.

When it was just the two of them, every pretense fell. The façade the two of them showed the world melted away and all they wanted was to love each other the only way they knew how. Every kiss had a raw intensity, breathing fast, their heart rates faster. The two of them moved together like the finest of silks beneath the sheets. Tonks felt his hand enter from below, moving fast, breaking away from her kiss, changing her breathing with every thrust, hearing her moans timed to his body.

Remus's fingers left a tingling frenzy of static in their wake. As his hands moved over her skin, her body had a temporary paralysis, her mind unable to process the pleasure so fast. His head moved around to her left ear, nipping it gently before whispering what's coming next, telling her she's going to have to beg for him to stop. She pulled back for a kiss that was both soft and hard. Both moved in sync, never making the same moves twice. They were in love, and so long had they waited for this, and now that it was happening, they didn't want the moment to end.

"Jesus, stop!" she pleaded desperately, collapsing back against the pillow, panting heavily. "Remus, stop, stop! I—I can't, Merlin's beard!" she cried. "Please." He stopped and waited, his dark hair damp and a sheen of sweat on his brow. "Just…give me a minute. Remus…"

"What, Dora?" he urged gently, his voice full of longing for his future wife, throwing her a suggestive wink. "What is it? Do you want me to stop, or should I continue?" he smirked. "It's your call, sweetheart."

"I just…wanted to tell you that I love you," she confessed, her eyes welling with tears of happiness. "I always have, and always will. I hope you never forget. If you do, well…"

"You'll have to remind me," he finished quietly, smiling. "I love you too, Dora. I always will. My love for you is completely different. You're my best friend and my soul mate in this life and the next. I won't live without you by my side. You're my light that guides me home to you, where I know my heart is safe with you. Now shut up and let me kiss you."

So, she did. Remus was handsome from the depth of his eyes to the gentle expressions of his voice. He was handsome from his generous opinions to the touch of his hand upon her own. Tonks loved the way his voice quickened when he sparkled with a new idea or was so enjoying one of hers that he lost himself for a moment and quite forgot the mask he wore for others.

She gave him her heart that night and kept his safe, that's the way it was.


	18. Bad Tidings

Wes had seen darkness before, the kind that made the streets of London seem like one of those old-fashioned Muggle photographs, the kind that don't move at all. This darkness wasn't like that. This was the darkness that robbed the werewolf of his best sense and replaced it with a paralyzing fear. In this darkness in his cage, he sat, muscles and cramped, unable to move or think of anything but Norah. He knew his eyes were only still there because he could feel himself blink, still instinctively moisturizing the organs he had no current use for. He couldn't hear anything either. He guessed that should bring his heart rate down at least a little bit, but it did not.

By his genes, he was a predator, he had the front facing eyes and the mind and rage enough to hunt, but he felt like prey in this black.

The dawn was many hours away and until that precious time, he could only wait. Moving made noise, it's bad enough he still had to breathe. But Wes knew he needed to see tomorrow to kill that son of a bitch that had brutally raped and murdered his wife in front of him. That thought alone was enough for him to hold his position for as long as it took. Not making it meant failing his Norah, and that is something he would never willingly do. Abandoning wasn't him.

Wes could feel the chains digging into his wrists, his left cheek lay firmly in the muddy dust that coated the cold concrete floor of the Malfoys' basement. From a high window came rectangle of moonlight, sending white beams to illuminate the grim and showed off the dust that swirled in the air. If he could just reach it, he could get out of here. Even if he couldn't tell the exact location, once he made it outside this godforsaken shithole that dared to call itself a manor, then he could Apparate and tell someone at the Ministry.

He strained his ears to listen for sounds, Death Eaters, someone…

Again, he focused on the window. The frame was new, but it wasn't the sort you could just open. There had to be ventilation shafts, since the bloody charms Greyback had put on the house meant no one except the Dark Lord or the Malfoy's or Bellatrix Lestrange could Apparate within the walls. Wes knew how to get his hands free, but he didn't relish doing it. Enough pressure in the right spot would break his thumb, then it would be time to get out.

He bit his tongue hard enough that he felt the blood settling on his tongue as he found his resolve to escape, popping his thumb out of place, freeing himself. It's what Norah would have wanted for him.

Wes with a light groan heaved himself up into the ventilation shaft and crawled his way towards his freedom. Once outside, the sky plunged into an ominous darkness, awakening predatory creatures out of their lair. He jumped as a distant bloodcurdling howl made his hair stand on end. Wes watched anxiously as the forest slowly transformed into a lethal playground. Tree branches stretched out in front of him, forming a cavern of distorted limbs that seemed to reach out and grab his flesh. A vile pain spread throughout his chest like a deadly infection and his lungs beseeched me to stop walking.

His knees felt like rubber after running constantly for hours and now the young man gulped selfish breaths of air. Helpless, Wes walked on, his feet dragging noisily on the carpet of lifeless leaves, each step triggering a rush of pain in his chest. In spite of his feeble condition, his lips curled into a smile as the realization that Wes had escaped finally struck him. He felt smug at his little victory.

"I made it," he whispered, glancing around, seeing no one through the rain. The more brutal the storm the calmer his racing heart was.

He'd prayed for days for Merlin to send winds enough to cover his tracks with the debris of a storm, until he could maintain a far enough distance between himself and the Malfoy manor, where it would be safe to Disapparate, to wash away any trace of his path, to remove his scent from this horrible place. If the wind were any less, Greyback and the others would have picked him off already and torn him to shreds, but even they weren't stupid enough to be outside in this unforgiving endless of violent air and rain. Bitter gusts ripped at his flimsy clothing. The wind bit at his face and stung his eyes, narrowed to keep out the relentless curtain of rain. He refused to be reduced by such a storm, he embraced it as his brother in arms, for the storm and blackened sky above currently matched his hardened heart. For only such violence could deliver to Wes what he wanted.

Greyback's head, severed and torn apart from his miserable body. Wes feared not what was ahead, only what lay behind him. Without giving it so much as a second glance back, not giving a damn anymore if Greyback came for him to hunt him down and kill him, he turned on his heel, Disapparating far away from the Malfoy's. He knew where he wanted to go. He had to find Lupin. His woman, whoever she was, was in grave danger. Fenrir still wanted her.

He couldn't wait any longer. The woman Fenrir had kidnapped was still in danger, with both Fenrir and now Bellatrix Lestrange after her.

If he couldn't get to her first, the Auror's days were numbered.

* * *

Tonks's skin still tingled where he had touched her, and her heart beat so erratically, she thought it might leap up out of her throat and fly away. Tonks took advantage of a rare day off from work to read.

Reading was like an escape from reality for her. When she picked up a book and started reading, she got so sucked into it that she forgot any of her surroundings, as always. Her imagination began to take over and she was free to fantasize like she could create a little world in her mind and imagine what the characters would look like and how they acted. Tonks thought it was crazy how much something as casual as reading can leave such an impact on her. She poured herself into the pages of her latest addiction, a copy of Stephen King's _IT_ , a book she'd always wanted to read, one of the Muggle girls in the shop had recommended it to her once, given she'd seen the new movies. 

Others laughed at her for her fascination with the Muggle world, but the way she saw it, they inhabited this world together, with wizardkind forced to hide in secrecy, and what better way than to hide in plain sight by visiting the shops were they bought their clothes, or visit the bookshops and read the books they read?

Tonks scoured the book, skim reading parts of it, reading until she was almost cross-eyed, and the words merged into nonsense as the killer clown terrorized the streets of Derry, and the Loser's Club. She lived each page in breathless rapture. The characters leapt out at her, especially Bev. Tonks admired how the girl came from nothing, escaped a household with abusive parents, something she could relate to. Her mother was never physically abusive. Her words cut the most. Tonks could find herself relating to Beverly. A knock at the door interrupted her precious reading time. Slamming her book down in frustration on her coffee table, she grew annoyed as she sat up straighter. The knock came quietly at first quietly and then there was silence. The knock was louder and faster this time, sounding impatient. Tonks stared at the door, unmoving. Her pet rabbit, Ollie, named after her first partner, when she'd joined the Ministry, sat perched on her lap, unmoving, his black little nose wiggling.

"Let me in, Dora. I know you're in there, I can hear you breathing!" came her mom. Her mother didn't wait for an invitation as she opened the door to Tonks's flat of her own accord, the sweet smell of jasmine lingers in the air so that when Andromeda Tonks crossed the threshold on Sunday late afternoon, it was like a shot of adrenaline right to her heart. Silence crashed down around the Auror. Even the leaves had ceased their scudding along the stone path. She smiled. Tonks figured she must be surrounded. She could have her killed right now but she wouldn't. Where's the sport in that? So much more fun to have her daughter lose her mind. But she won't. Tonks wouldn't. Her mother stepped nearer; the jasmine scent was now so heady it was almost poison. Tonks wanted to hold her breath and pinch her nose, but this is not going to be quick.

_Mother's little visits never are_. "Mum, what are you doing here, it's one o'clock in the afternoon on a Saturday. Why aren't you at home with Dad?" Tonks grumbled, Ollie in her arms. It did not escape her attention her mother's wrinkling of her nose in disgust as her dark eyes landed on Ollie.

"I came to see you!" she protested hotly, Ted Tonks trailing close behind, looking a cross between amused and thoroughly disgruntled.

"Told you, 'Meda, we should have let her know ahead of time!"

"Oh, hush," chirped Andromeda happily. "It's fine."

Tonks's mother was a woman who prided herself on her appearance. At forty-five, she could have graced a witch's magazine cover. She kept an eye on her figure, exercising and working out constantly to maintain her hourglass shape, her dark hair fell in natural waves and was cut in layers to her shoulders. Andromeda Tonks was a beautiful woman. She was highly practiced at seduction. With her good looks and high cheekbones, it was all too simple. Nothing so pretty could possibly harm you, right? Mostly she just let them feel in charge, guiding the conversation with unnoticed prompts. It was only seconds before her new target was jumping through hoops to please her. Her face and some cleavage could get her anything and anyone. No one knew how she'd take a rejection because it had never happened to Andromeda, not once in her life. Her black robes were pressed and perfect, her black high heels looking brand new, which, if Tonks knew her mother and she did, they were. Andromeda Tonks took a moment to get herself situated on Tonks's simple brown sofa and glance around her minimalist apartment with some disdain.

"So tell us both about this new _man_ of yours. When do we get to meet him?" she said, snorting a little as she dipped into her bag to pull out her wand, muttering a quick incantation under her breath to make the room immediately smell like something floral, causing Tonks to shoot her mother a dark look, seething.

Almost as if on cue, a knock came at her flat door, rendering Tonks frozen to her spot, Ollie still her arms. She glanced down at her attire, a black tank top and her bright purple pajama pants, her pink pixie tousled and uncombed. "Oh, shit! Just—just a second!" she squeaked, wincing at loud her voice was as it carried through her apartment. Setting Ollie on her mother's lap because she knew it would annoy her; she kept her satisfied smirk to herself as her mother shrieked. Tonks bolted towards her closet, pulling on a red sweater and black pants, hoping it was suitable enough. Hobbling over to the door, pulling on a pair of fuzzy penguin socks, she wrenched over to the door, surprised to find her new boyfriend standing in the doorway, smiling at her.

Remus stood there, in khaki's and a simple dark gray sweater.

"Hi," he said warmly, breaking into a smile, a small bundle of flowers in his hands. "I know I said I'd pick you up at eight, but I just couldn't wait to see you, so I took the time to come see you and—oh," he said, looking surprised, peering over Tonks's shoulder, noticing Andromeda, his face immediately reddening.

"I didn't know he was staying over," Andromeda whispered under her breath, cringing as Ollie hopped over one of her heels. "Oh, thing, get it _away_!" she shrieked, recoiling from the rabbit.

"Here," said Remus kindly, shooting Tonks a brief wink as he stooped low enough to scoop Ollie in his arms, giving the rabbit a scratch on his ears. "He's cute!"

"Don't I know it," she said, trying to ignore her mother's piercing stare practically burning a hole through the back of her skull. "That's Ollie."

"Hey, Ollie," he crooned gently, still holding the rabbit in his arms. He glanced towards Tonks's mother to gauge her reaction to him. Lupin could tell when he was being judged; by the way she was looking down her nose at his sweater and khakis, slightly worn and tattered, however well cared for they were, deeming him unworthy for her only daughter. Remus had met women like these before.

"Mum, I'm actually glad you're here," sighed Tonks, sounding exhausted as she brushed a lock of pink hair behind her ear. She glanced to Remus, who nodded. No time like the present, then.

"That's a first," scoffed her mother, sneering.

"No, I actually want to tell you something really important, something good, I think. I hope so, anyways, Mum," she began, glancing at Remus, suddenly growing nervous. He shot her a brief smile and nodded, silently encouraging Tonks.

Andromeda's eyes widened. "Oh, I had a dream about this last night! You're getting back with that nice young Auror, Paul, is it!" she exclaimed, suddenly sounding delighted.

"NO, MUM!" Tonks bellowed. "I will _never_ go back to that monster, Mum! If you knew the things he did," she shouted, ignoring the pained, surprised look Remus was giving her. She tried to ignore it, making a mental note to address it later.

"Are you thinking of switching careers?" she asked.

"Mum, I'm an Auror. You know how hard I fought for this career path. No. I'm not switching jobs, Mum, Merlin's beard! I wanted to tell you I'm with Remus now," she sighed, rubbing her temples. She was getting a headache, as she did often whenever her mother was over on a visit. He didn't wait to come closer, enveloping her hand in his hand, squeezing it. His hand was warm and a comfort to her now. The admission seemed to cleave the room in half as Andromeda fell silent, a crestfallen look in her eyes as the woman's gaze drifted and settled towards Remus's scars, and her face paled.

"But he's a werewolf!" she protested, putting the pieces together, seeing the dark circles underneath the man's eyes, and his scars.

"I know," she said quietly, not wanting to argue and make a scene. "And we don't care. I make the Wolfsbane Potion for him every month. I don't care how much Remus makes, Mum, he makes me happy. Happier than I ever was with Paul or any other boyfriend." It did not escape her attention how her words seem to breathe new life into Lupin, how he seemed to stand a little taller, prouder. Confident. She liked she had that effect on him. When Andromeda turned to glare at Remus, her eyes seemed wounded, as if she blamed him for the way her daughter was choosing to live her a life, a way that she, as her mother, disapproved of greatly.

"I know this is unexpected," he began, timid.

"Oh, this isn't you, Dora, it isn't!" Andromeda protested, feeling the beginnings of tears well in her eyes. She angrily brushed them away with a perfectly manicured finger, her nails painted a deep crimson red. "I-I know you; I know who you are, Tonks…How could you do this to us, Dora? How dare you go out and-and rut with some man like a bitch in heat?" she bellowed, her face turning red the longer she dwelled on the incident, her face nearly inches from mine. Before Tonks even had time to register what was happening, let alone react, her hand cracked across her face, snapping it back with the force of her blow and causing poor Tonks to stumble backwards. She raised her hand to do it again. "MEDA!" bellowed Ted, finally losing his temper. He seized Andromeda by her slender, bony wrist and clutched her arm in a vice grip, his eyes tired but fed up. The look of a man who'd lost his patience. "ENOUGH!" he shouted. "I may not approve of this news," he began, his gaze flitting from Nymphadora to his wife, but he sighed and continued. "But the best thing we can do right now as Dora's parents is be there for her and support her, no matter what. Face it, Meda, we're getting a son-in-law, at long last. It's what we've always wanted for our daughter, isn't it? For her to mary? You-you've lost yourself. You've forgotten Dora. But she remembered," he added, glancing sideways at Tonks, who was still clutching her still stinging cheek and on the verge of near tears. Andromeda suddenly took on a pale look, as if she'd been painted with white-wash-even her lips were barely there. Then with one step backwards, a hand clamped over her mouth, she crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings, all the strength in her legs leaving her. Ted Tonks was rendered speechless and did the only thing he could. Without a word, he stooped and carried Andromeda in his arms towards Tonks' spare bedroom, slamming the door behind them loudly.

Tonks let out a huff of frustration and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Remus broke the awkward silence first.

"Well, that went even worse than I expected."

Tonks closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to quell her nerves and marched right on in the spare bedroom, not giving a damn about etiquette. "Mum, if you think I don't know who I am, you're insane!" she shouted. "If you think this means I'm going to suddenly uproot everything I've ever believed in, you're wrong. Don't worry, Mum. I like Remus. A lot and we want to be together. He's asked me to marry him, Mum, and we're getting married. I think you'll like him, if you just…give him a chance. Please, Mum, do this for me," she retorted hotly, squeezing Remus's hand tighter. If it hurt him, he never once flinched or tore his hand away. If anything, his grip tightened as they dealt with her mother's wrath.

_Together_ , his eyes seemed to communicate. "Believe me, Mum; I wasn't expecting this to happen. I don't want to be alone anymore," she replied, glancing at Remus, whose face remained impassive, but she could see it in his brown eyes. He was growing increasingly protective of her, fierceness, intensity she had not seen before.

Andromeda started to cry, cupping her daughter's cheek in her hands, the tips of her nails digging into Tonks's cheek. She winced but held firm. "What about grandchildren?" Andromeda asked.

"Oh, for fu—not _now_ , Mum! I finally found someone I want to be with. I am happy. Why can't you just be happy for me, Mum?"

Andromeda Tonks fell silent for a moment, her gaze drifting downwards towards her daughter's and the former Hogwarts professor's intertwined hands. It was inevitable.

"I—I need a minute, Tonks, please, don't follow me, you've done enough, dear. Just leave me for a second," she mumbled, wrenching away from Tonks's touch and disappearing into Tonks's bedroom from the spare, barely sparing Remus so much as a second glance, Ted following close behind him.

When she left, Tonks looked up at Remus, teary-eyed and hurt. "So much for open-mindedness, Rem, that went great!" she snapped, wiping away her tears with a flick of her wrist. "You'd think I would have just announced to her I was gay or something!"

Remus put his arm around her, pulling her close and rubbing her shoulder. "Give her a break, Dora," he encouraged gently, breaking into a gentle smile as she sank further into his embrace, enjoying the warmth he gave off. "It's only been a week since I proposed, after all, it's a bit of a shock to her, I expect, Tonks," he said soothingly. "It's new to all of us. We're both still getting used to these feelings, and it's only been a few weeks. Just give her some time, love."

Tonks had a pained look in her eyes. She glanced back wearily towards the bedroom. "Do you think she's okay? I didn't mean to spring it on her like that, but she gave me no choice…" she asked, her sincere question almost melting his heart. That was why he liked her so much, dare he thought even beginning to love her, but she had that effect on him. He almost couldn't explain it, but in the middle of her own turmoil, she worried for her mother. Remus knew Tonks was a beautiful woman, not just in physical beauty, but feeling beautiful from within, from the love she gave to her ideas and the creative ways she expressed her soul, as he could tell by the way she chose to decorate her apartment, only a few paintings.

Dora Tonks was one who wrapped her arms around the soul of the world, of all who loved her and those who needed love in their lives the most. That, to Remus, was beauty, and if her mother could see that as he could, then she would be smarter and wiser than most people in London. He could certainly see it. "I'll go check on her, Dora," he said gently, leaning over to give a gentle kiss on the cheek, the area where his lips had been lingered burned and tingled. He detached himself from her vice grip and made his way back towards her bedroom, feeling his palms begin to grow a little clammy at daring to enter her room without Tonks present at his side. Andromeda Tonks was sitting on the edge of Tonks's bed, the dark purple comforter a shock to the black walls of her simple bedroom. Glancing around, he could see her tastes were simple but elegant. _Just like her_ , he thought. She glanced up at Remus with red-rimmed eyes. "Was it something I did?" she asked, sounding tired.

"I don't think it makes a difference, Mrs. Tonks," Remus began cautiously, sitting down on the edge of the bed as close to her as he dared, careful to mind his choice of words around her. "You have been a wonderful mother to Dora. Which is why she seems to be so afraid that you'll want to disown her now that she's engaged to me."

Andromeda looked as though Lupin had slapped her.

"Disown her?" she asked incredulously, as though she had misheard Remus. "Don't be ridiculous. She said she was dating you, not that she was a Death Eater," she sniffed haughtily. Andromeda took a moment to draw in a deep breath, holding it. "It's just I have to get used to all this, Mr. Lupin."

"Well you should tell her that. She'll understand," he replied, keeping his voice steady. "And please…don't call me Mr. Lupin. Remus." She nodded, regarding him in silence for a moment before shakily rising to her feet, refusing his offer of help, waving him off and going out into the living room, where Tonks was waiting for her. He would have followed but wanted to allow her a moment alone with her mother. Instead, he hovered near the doorway, pushing the door open a crack and eavesdropping on their conversation and ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble. He fell silent and listened. Andromeda was speaking to Tonks.

"I may not approve of this… _match_ , Nymphadora," she grumbled, sounding thoroughly disgruntled, but knowing her daughter would do as she damn well liked. "But you're my daughter, and I couldn't love you anymore if you told me right now. I do not love you any less because you told me you don't want to go back to Paul. I know you had your reasons, though I think you were incredibly foolish to let him go. I just hope in time, Remus proves himself worthy. If he's not a Death Eater or a scumbag, then he'll do, I guess, but he has to prove himself, Dora." Tonks let out a tiny laugh, and Remus felt his shoulders relax as he closed the door, giving them a minute alone.

Once he heard the door shut, and Tonks breathe a sigh of relief as she slumped to the floor outside the door, her head buried in her hands. "Don't expect to be spending a lot of time with her, Rem, she'll be too busy planning my funeral right after I die of embarrassment," she moaned, closing her eyes.

Remus chuckled at her comment, joining her, his back resting against the door as he pulled her close and rubbed her shoulder. "See?" he joked. "That wasn't so bad, was it, Dora? I think she likes me. She'll come around eventually. Just give her time."

His girlfriend nodded mutely, still seemingly shell-shocked. She glanced to Remus, and saw that he was smiling at her, fighting back laughter. "What's so funny?" she asked, frowning. Tonks moved her head closer to Remus. He sat on the floor, frozen from both fear and adrenaline. She leaned in, so her forehead rested against his, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky breath, nervous.

"Thank you, Rem," she whispered.

"For what?" he replied, his voice low, husky.

"For being you. You accepted me for who I am, not for who everyone else wants me to be. So, thank you." Her voice wavered, exhilarated from the tension between them. Tonks gently leaned in and kissed Remus's warm lips. They pulled apart and took shallow, shaky breaths, gasping for air when they could at last. Unable to contain himself anymore, Remus held Tonks's head in his hands and pulled her into a fiery and passionate kiss. Her hands worked their way around his body, feeling each crevasse, each line along his perfect chiseled physique, grinning. Tonks felt herself being gently pushed onto her back as he matched her body's form. Remus's hands ventured over her curved body, exploring every inch.

They pulled apart and opened their eyes. They stared at each other, deep into each other's eyes. Remus's full of wonder and love, Tonks's full of curiosity and passion. No words were spoken but a story worthy of them was communicated with just a look. As his fingers drift from her cheek down to her collarbones, gently lifting her shirt, his eyes caught sight of the scar near her breast, his eyes widened in shock and he looked to Tonks for confirmation.

Tonks sighed, recognizing their moment was gone. Perhaps another time, but as she pulled herself to a sitting position, still slumping against the door, she did her best to ignore the pained look he gave her. A result of Greyback's attack. One touch and it was over, it was always that way with Tonks. She felt electricity in her skin, hormones shutting down of her higher brain and the rise of her animal self. From there on in it was all passion, intense, intoxicating. It was her release, her escape, her drug... not that she was easy, she knew well enough to avoid letting a man lay his hands on her. If she was smitten all she could do was go along for the ride and pray her instincts were right. There was something about him that lit Tonks up from the inside; there was something about her that melted his confidence to nothing at all. For Tonks, touching him was like being handed the Holy Grail, as if her heart was mended even though she never knew it was broken.


	19. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I can start to write the happier part of their lives together! Starting with their wedding. I hunted for a long time what I thought would be a good wedding for Tonks, given their ceremony was simple. Finally, I decided on this one if anyone is interested, it struck me as very wizard-like, dress robes almost. 
> 
> https://www.jjshouse.com/A-Line-V-Neck-Sweep-Train-Chiffon-Wedding-Dress-002215669-g215669

Tonks had never felt more out of place than she did at Madam Malkin's right now. The dress robes section of the woman's shop was nothing more than a sea of ivory, white, and pastel pinks. She was already overwhelmed, and she hadn't even tried on a single gown yet. Tonks had dragged Mrs. Weasley and Ginny shopping with her, as well as her mother, though her mother wasn't helping the tension her daughter was feeling by offering her comments on a particular dress, either pointing out the flaws or she liked dresses that Tonks thought were rather ugly, though to keep the peace, she bit back her retorts and remained silent for now.

"Oh, how about this one?" chirped up Andromeda, holding out a sequined pump shoe that looked like a death trap to Tonks. One step in that, she'd fall and break her foot, spend the rest of their wedding night in St. Mungo's having her foot healed. Yeah, baby…

"You can wear it," grumbled Tonks moodily, turning away and wishing she were anywhere else but here. She turned back towards her mom and found they were in the middle of yet another fight.

Mrs. Weasley was eyeing Andromeda Tonks' black crisp robes that hugged her frame with some disgust. "Why are you wearing that?" she asked, seeming to be genuinely interested. "No one's gonna notice it!"

Tonks had had enough. Grabbing the sequined pump off the rack, she stormed over to Madam Malkin, who had an armful of dress robes and gowns in her arms for both Tonks and Mrs. Weasley to try on. Mrs. Weasley had insisted on attending their ceremony.

"Excuse me, Madam, but would you happen to have this shoe in a size 7 and a half for my mother? She's a bit of a sadomasochist and enjoys causing pain," she snapped, annoyed at all their bickering.

Andromeda Tonks looked up from her arguing with Molly, who'd moved onto another section of dresses. Ginny, meanwhile, was trying her hardest not to laugh as she lingered in the bridesmaid's dresses. "First of all, that shoe is hideous, and second of all, Sophia, I'm not into S&M. You know that, dear."

Madam Malkin glanced at Andromeda and the animosity in Tonks' eyes and knew when to walk away. "When don't I just give you two a minute," she mumbled, sauntering away into a corner, waiting for things to calm down. "I'll come back in a moment."

"See?" Andromeda snapped to Tonks. "You made her uncomfortable, Dora. I'm your mother, I'm only trying to help you. It's not every day my little girl gets married, now, is it? Besides, you also have to help me pick out a dress for the mother of the bride," she chirped, oblivious to Tonks' rapidly swelling anger issues.

Molly glanced at Tonks and scoffed, fingering a dress that she thought would be perfect for Remus's future wife. Glancing sideways at the pink-haired witch out of the corner of her eye, she could see why Remus loved her, the way she walked and held herself, more confident than before, how her eyes light up whenever she found something funny, how easily she got along with Remus. "What about this one, dear? I don't think you need all those fancy bridal gowns, something like this I think would be perfect for you."

The dress Molly Weasley held out to Tonks was a simple dress, perfect for the simple ceremony they were planning. Initially, Andromeda had balked, insisting on paying for it if they could have a real party, but Remus and Tonks insisted on paying for it themselves, wanting an intimate ceremony with only those closest to them: Andromeda, Ted, Lyall, Remus's father, and Molly and Arthur. Tonks admired the dress she held in her hands, taking it into the fitting room to try it on. The dress was a beautiful A-line white gown made of chiffon with a sweep train and short fluttery sleeves that fell to the crook of her elbow. When she opened the door and stepped out in front of the full-length mirror, twirling once, she loved how the back looked like it opened up, like a blossoming flower. It was simple, elegant and clean. _Perfect for me_ , she thought. She turned to both her mom, Molly Weasley, and Ginny, who were staring, watery-eyed and slightly teary.

"What do you think?" she asked Ginny.

Ginny Weasley fixed her with an interesting stare.

When she spoke, Tonks wondered if she was referring to the dress or her future husband. "I think," she said after a moment's pause. "That you've found the perfect one."

* * *

"Hold still, please, Tonks, I can't help you with you squirming!" Molly Weasley's soothing tones filled her eardrums. Tonks flinched as the older woman gently waved her wand with a practiced flip of her wrist wedding, and Tonks watched, slightly in awe, as a few dozen tiny white flowers magically settled themselves onto Tonks's bright pink pixie, which had been freshly trimmed so that not a strand was out of place. Tonks thought Mrs. Weasley was looking quite pretty in a bright green set of dress robes, perfect for the simple ceremony.

She said as much. "You're beautiful."

Mrs. Weasley snorted. "Thank you, but it's not me everyone will be noticing tonight," she teased, her gray eyes shining in amusement. "We'll all be looking at you," she said quietly, working professionally to put the finishing touches on Tonks's makeup, which looked too dramatic under the bright light of the bathroom, but she knew once she stepped outside and for their photographs was when it would truly shine. Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Are you nervous?" she asked, desiring to change the subject as she put the finishing touches on Tonks' hair. "You're going to be a wife!"

Mrs. Weasley held a pin between her teeth as she finished putting the final touches onto Tonks' dress, checking the straps of her simple pink wedge sequined sandals they'd found last minute in Diagon Alley. "Done," she announced, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "What do you think? Do I need redo it?" she asked, scrutinizing her work with a careful eye.

"It's beautiful, thank you," Tonks said excitedly.

"No, _you're_ beautiful," she corrected, her eyes glinting. Tonks' white wedding dress was beautiful and simple, like her. The dress was perfect for Tonks.

"It's time," Ted spoke up from the doorway softly.

Tonks turned and was surprised to see her father's eyes misting. "Dad," she whispered, not sure what to say to him.

"How like your mother you are," he said, coming over to his daughter and embracing his only child in a tight hug. "You're beautiful, Dora. Always. I'm so proud of you. I know she is too."

"Lupin is lucky to have you for his wife," Mrs. Weasley offered, her smile reassuring. Molly was calm and collected, something Tonks wished she could emulate in the moment. "Oh, no, I'd better go. I should have been there five minutes ago," she groaned, without another word fleeing the room, the train of her dress robes trailing behind her footsteps.

"Are you ready?" Ted asked when they were alone.

"Yes," she whispered, linking her arm with her father's. "Don't let me fall, Daddy, please," she begged desperately.

"Never," he promised firmly. "With me, you're safe."

She knew her father's words to be true. "I'm ready."

* * *

"I don't think I've ever seen you this nervous, boy," chuckled Molly, her arms folded across her chest as she sat in the pew, watching as the man she'd known for years pace the floor restlessly, weaving his fingers in between his knuckles, his gaze panicked. "It's a good thing I've got this, or you'd have dropped it by now," she teased, uncurling her fist and revealing the ring he was to place on Tonks' finger in a few short minutes. "Where's the Warlock of the Peace? Mathias?" she asked, looking around the dimly lit nave. "He should have been here by now, shouldn't he?" she joked, hoping to alleviate Remus's tension. Poor Arthur looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or not. "Oh, wait. Here he comes. You know, if you are this nervous, I think I have some wine in the back or even some of the Fire Whiskey if your nerves are going to get the better of you. No? Good. I don't think you want to drink too much tonight anyways; you will want to remember your wedding night. Besides, how the hell are you two supposed to give your parents grandchildren if you don't get to the best part of your night—"

"Molly," Remus croaked hoarsely. He scowled at how his voice sounded, turning away to cough and clear his throat. "I just wanted to say…thank you," he said, dropping his voice an octave and lowering it.

"For what?" she asked, looking surprised as she headed to check up on the girl. Mrs. Weasley was given no time to react as he said not a word, striding over and enveloping her in a deep hug, leaving Molly slightly winded but pleased. Molly had been hugged before, but never like this since her parents passed. And for Remus to initiate it, was practically a miracle. There was something so warm, something that felt right, smelt right. She let her body sag; her muscles become loose. Remus gave her the respect of an equal, but it was rare for him to show his affection like this. _No doubt, the girl has changed his ways, and all for the bette_ r, she thought. Not knowing how to respond, she patted the man she considered like a son on the back and reluctantly relinquished her hold on him, holding him at arm's length so she could look at him. Molly thought he was looking especially handsome in a simple set of black dress robes. She had taken great care to trim his light brown hair, admiring how the lit candles behind cast a soft glow behind him, his hair seeming to glow in the light. Almost like an... "Angel," she whispered.

"What? Did you say something, Molly?" he asked, frowning.

"Uh…nothing," she mumbled, feeling the heat flush to her cheeks. She brushed a lock of red hair back behind her ear. "You know I'm proud of you, right? I was starting to think you would never find your own happiness, but then Tonks came into your life and…I just am so happy for you. Too long have you lingered in the shadows, hoping to live in the light. Now you can, now that the girl is in your life. Well, I consider you my own son, Lupin, like one of my own. That is all I need to say on this matter. I know you two will have a great life together. I just know it. But I should go check on Tonks, see what's is taking so damn long, yes?"

He nodded, and had been about to say something, but was saved by the arrival of Andromeda Tonks. "Mrs. Tonks." Darius muttered softly; grateful they were here to bear witness to this day. "I am grateful you two are here. I know you may not approve of our union, sir, but I can promise you that I—"

But to his surprise, Tonks' mother beamed, looking radiant. "We wouldn't be anywhere else," she said softly, looking around, seeing no sign of his future bride. "Excuse me," she said politely, giving a low curtsy as she turned her back and made to follow Molly. They returned a moment later, Tonks trailing close behind. He drew in a sharp breath that pained his lungs as he looked at his future wife.

The glow from the candles the Warlock Justice of the Peace had lit in painstaking detail to try to provide as much light as possible for their ceremony cast an almost ethereal glow around Tonks from behind, giving her almost an angelic appearance. In his eyes, she was.

To him, she had never looked more beautiful than she did right now. The scent of jasmine and lavender wafted towards his nostrils as she walked towards him, and a light gentle salve covered her lips, emphasizing their natural fullness, as well as to protect them from the harsh winter winds. Her dress was perfect. A white beautiful floor-length gown with ¾ flowing sleeves and a long train. Simple and elegant, perfect for her. Her pink pixie was perfect, not a strand out of place, tiny white flowers intricately woven throughout the front. And when she walked, he could briefly see the pair of white ballet flats on her feet. She had bewitched him with her beauty. "Like Theia or Aphrodite," he whispered, keeping his voice low enough so that only she could hear him. "You're beautiful, Dora."

She smiled warmly and took her hand in his. "I heard that. You're not so bad yourself, Rem. You're perfect," she whispered, not noticing the huge scar on his cheek, of which he was always so ashamed of.

Mathias, the Warlock of the Peace, clasped his hands together and folded him in front of his lap, his white robes crisp and neat. "Now that we are all here. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Mr. and Mrs. Tonks, you may be seated. These two today have asked that I keep this little speech short, classy and have politely asked me to leave out stories that are unflattering to either of them. So, I've had to redline stories about alcohol or the war, or that disastrous night involving the botched attempt with the young man asking this lady to dinner," he teased, shooting Remus a coy little glance, whose face flushed red. "But what I _do_ feel comfortable in sharing with you all is, "I told you so," he grinned, shooting a charming smile at Remus and Tonks, much to their surprise. "Which is exactly what I said to Molly here that night that I learned that your relationship was becoming truly serious. As a third-party spectator to their developing love, it was extremely clear that the two of them represent a perfect pairing because each of them complements the other so well. They balance one another, and while each of them are tremendous individuals on their own, together they are even better. And being better together, as a team, is what has been many months in the making and ultimately leads those of us fortunate enough to bear witness to this blessed of events here today, witnessing their commitment to one another in front of those they love the most," he said, letting out a content little sigh. "I wish I could tell you a single story that summarizes their relationship and how they enrich each other's lives, and the lives of each of us, but the truth is there isn't a single one event that is a good encapsulation of what they mean to me, to this church, to each other, and to all of the world around us. But what I do know is that both cares deeply and passionately for each other; they protect each other; they make each other laugh and think outside themselves, that time magically seems to both fly and slow down when they're together. They help each other in ways that are obvious and unnoticed, but always appreciated. Also, my personal experiences with both Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks highlight the quality of their love. When I am around them, I am always enjoying myself. Even when you two are fighting like cats and dogs," he added, earning a giggle from Tonks and a bark-like laugh from Arthur.

"Mathias, can you _please_ hurry up?" pleaded Molly, sounding highly annoyed, tapping her foot in agitation as she sat in the front pew, gesturing with a wave of her hand for the old warlock to get on it with it. He looked startled, having forgotten himself.

"What? Oh, yes, right, right. I am certain that's part of what makes them so special to each of us: how happy and contented we feel when we are with them. And what I wish for them on this day, their wedding day, is that their lifetime together as a married couple is one full of complete contentment; full of those moments that they wish would never end, and that they continue to make one another smile and laugh as they make us all do. So, without further ado, it is a great pleasure to officiate this wonderful ceremony this evening, so very long in the making. If you would like to begin your vows?"

Remus nodded, taking a second to compose his thoughts. "Today, Nymphadora Tonks, I join my life to yours, not as merely your husband, but as your friend, your lover, and your confidant. Let me be the shoulder you lean on, the rock on which you rest, the companion of your life. Let me be the shoulder you lean on, the rock on which you rest, the companion of your life. With you, I will walk my path from this day forward. In your eyes, I have found my home. In your heart, I have found my love. In your soul, I have found my mate. With you, I am whole, full and alive. You make laugh, harder than anyone else I know. You let me cry and don't think me weak for it. You are my breath, my every heartbeat, Dora. I pledge to listen to your advice, and occasionally take it," he grinned, earning a smile from Tonks in return and a chuckle from his family members. "I pledge never to keep score…even if I'm totally winning. I pledge to always admire your huge, strong, kind and determined heart. I pledge that I will love you. You know me better than anyone else in this world, and somehow you still manage to love me. You are my best friend and my one true love. There is still a part of me today that cannot believe that I'm the one who gets to marry you." Remus paused to get his emotions under control, although Tonks wasn't fooled. His brown eyes were misting as he fought back his tears. "With you, I will walk my path from this day forward, with you always be my side and I will never be alone again. I've never known someone with such gentle grace and a purer heart. When I've been lost, you've been there to bring me back. So, on this day, this moment, I pledge the rest of my life to you. I believe in you, just as you've always believed in me. When you believe in someone, it's not just for a minute, or for now. It's for forever, and even that isn't long enough."

Tonks swallowed hard to fight back the lump that was forming in her throat as she fought back her tears and took a deep breath. "I wanted my vows to be perfect, but perfection is a hard thing to get your hands on. But life is meant to be a little messy. And when it comes to love, I guess it's like what Moody always told me, right before you go into battle as an Auror. You only go if it is the only thing you could ever imagine doing. And I cannot imagine my life without you in it. You know me better than anyone else in this world and somehow you still manage to love me. You are my best friend and one true love. There is a part of me today that cannot believe that I'm the one who gets to marry you, love."

Tears were shed from both as their rings were exchanged, further words of love promised, and finally, the Warlock of the Peace pronounced them man and wife, commanding them to seal their new union with a kiss. Remus grinned, turning to the woman that was now his wife. He lowered his face to Tonks's, cradling her head in his hands as their lips met, the moment he had dreamed of for so long. He placed his hand on her waist and drew her closer, deepening their kiss. As they parted, she saw his eyes sparkle and his lips curve up into a smile and she couldn't help but smile back at the man she now was proud to call her husband. There was nothing that could ruin it. With true love as she knew they were blessed to experience together, Tonks felt like the other was the reason their lives together were now beautiful. Loving him was the best feeling because when she felt low and she talked to Remus, all he said was, "It will be all right. I'm right beside you."

She gazed up into his eyes lovingly. _Know that you are good, my love_ , she thought passionately as he pulled her close for another kiss, gentle and slow. _Know that you have everything you need to be the man you were born to be. You are more than you know, less than you will become, perfect in my eyes. To be in your company is a little slice of heaven. Emotions swim in your eyes, in your body language, in the inflections of your voice. You are a genuinely nice man and nice men deserve to win. So, my wish for you is that you win whatever it is you truly need to be happy in this life, reach for the stars and know that they shine for you as much as anyone else._

_And my greatest gift in this life, is to be right next to you._


	20. A Shocking Revelation

Tonks rested on the park bench, a turquoise color that reminded her of the ocean under brilliant summer rays. She let her eyes wander the surface, lingering briefly on the patches that were almost greenish and shaped like islands in the blue. It was her day to catch up on paperwork in the Ministry, which she was secretly grateful for. She'd been feeling nauseous the last couple of mornings and didn't want to venture out into the field. She briefly wondered if she was coming down with the flu.

Without thinking of doing so, she removed one of her black fingerless gloves, letting her fingers fall to the surface, feeling the heat of the day that had soaked into the metal. Only here such a thing could remain, here in the garden. Without even having to look up, she heard the loud crack of her husband Apparating next to the bench, so exactly precise and neat.

"Hey, Dora," he said warmly, stooping low to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. In his hands was the sandwich she'd asked for lunch. "Sorry I'm a little late," he apologized, looking pained. "Your mother wouldn't stop fussing over me and I almost missed our meetup time, love. But I'm here now," he grinned, looking years younger than his age of thirty-five.

Tonks smiled. "I'm starting to think she loves you more than she does me these days, Rem." As she looked at her husband, she knew this to be true, or at least she suspected it. Remus was the one who wrote down everybody's birthdays in a little notebook so they never forgot to send a card, the dependable one who never failed to help clean or do a chore, who had made sure Tonks was well taken care of as his wife. It had taken a while for Ted and Andromeda to come to terms with the fact that Remus was a werewolf, but once they got to witness first-hand for themselves how much he loved their daughter, they came around.

"Thanks, love," she responded shyly, taking a bite of the sandwich, and then a bite of the red apple he'd brought her, hoping that maybe if she ate something, the nausea would fade. "I can't seem to stop eating this morning. I can't remember the last time I was this hungry, it's weird."

He frowned, ever the intuitive man that he was, sensed something with his wife was off. "You all right? You're looking a little pale, sweetheart."

"I'm good," she managed between bites, swallowing back the acidic bile that crept its way up into her throat, taking another bite of apple. "I'm not sick. I feel fine!" she protested. "I just can't seem to stop eating, Rem."

He stared. She could almost see the wheels in his head turning, working on overdrive to try to figure out what might be wrong with her.

There was something solemn swimming in her husband's brown eyes. Their stunning, deep brown held a truth that his face could not hide from her. The despairing look of anguish they conveyed made Tonks feel heartbroken. She looked away, taking another bite of apple. She couldn't bear it. What was usually strength now showed weakness. "We're going."

"Going where?" she asked absentmindedly, putting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. Tonks gave a small, hopefully encouraging smile. He smiled back, and in that moment, she felt like everything was going to be all right, even if it was just for a little while.

"St. Mungo's. If you're feeling sick, we'll get to the bottom of this."

Tonks scoffed and rolled her eyes, stifling a chuckle, though it escaped before she could stop herself. "I don't need a Healer or a doctor, Remus."

"But…" His voice trailed off as he looked into her eyes. He knew better than to argue with Dora. "Fine," he answered stiffly, his tone hard.

Tonks opened her mouth to argue as she stood and flinched at the stiffness in her joints, grabbing her little black canvas purse she used, reaching for her wand. She stumbled as she stood, her equilibrium slightly off balance and would have fallen had Remus not shot out an arm to catch her. With each step backward she took, her stomach tightened and ached even more. She kept swallowing and her throat kept clenching, but no matter what, Tonks could not stop the warm feeling rising in her chest.

Then she could taste it at the back of her mouth. Before she could stop herself or call out to Remus for help, she barely managed to wave her wand and conjure a dark blue basin out of thin air, her stomach dry-heaving, forcing everything up and out, retching until only clear liquid came up, and then nothing at all. Her throat felt sore from the stomach acid that was layering and her mouth tasted of bile. "That's disgusting."

"That's it, we're going," her husband managed, gripping her arm firmly, that unusually stern tone that was unlike Remus back and in full force. Tonks's skin went ashen, even paler than usual and she stumbled forward, Remus grabbing her arm in a strong, ironclad vice grip as she faltered. She knew she would faint whenever her stomach gave out like this. It felt like her innards were being replaced by some kind of black hole. The nausea crept from her abdomen to her head and then black.

Her eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy, then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space, her heartbeat pounded loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside her fading pleas for help and the whoosh of the cold London air as Remus Apparated, still clutching onto his wife's arm in his iron grip. The feeling in her body drained away slowly until finally all was black, and she slept. The last thing she heard was the soothing voice of her husband whispering something into the shell of her ear. If she fought the tides of blackness to hear it, she could hear Remus...speaking to her. "It will be all right, sweetheart. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, I promise."

* * *

Tonks awoke with a jolt, at first terrified, sheens of sweat on her brown, her pink bangs damp with sweat and clinging to her forehead, or at least, that's what it felt like. Her head rested against an unfamiliar, stiff, starchy pillow that smelled of bleach. She couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking her. Her heart was racing and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her. But no one was coming.

She would have cried for help, but there was no strength in her voice, just a whisper. Her breaths quivered in short, quick gasps every time she inhaled, her body aching and her cheeks burning with the flush of fever.

Tonks couldn't seem to stop shaking either. Sometimes it was rough, other times she could manage, but every time she'd get close to sleep, a new spell of violent shaking would force her awake. "I'll get better."

She sat up straighter, propping herself against the pillows, feebly rubbing away at her arms in a sickly attempt to cease the unsettling chill that continued to run down her spine and made her skin crawl and flush.

Tonks lay in the unfamiliar bed quietly, keeping her eyes closed. Her legs were numb, and her head felt bruised and battered. Curiosity slowly pried her eyes open to meet a dismal view of a magnolia colored room.

"Eww," she managed weakly, scrunching her nose in disgust. St. Mungo's. Remus hadn't listened to her protests and had taken her anyway.

Her husband sat in the chair next to her, looking like he hadn't slept in hours. She knew immediately the door was locked, and that familiar tingling sensation she would get whenever something felt off, Tonks knew a charm had been over the ward to prevent the patients from Disapparating. She slid her eyes sideways. Beyond her bed at the foot of the mattress was her chart and vital signs, in huge black bold letterings.

**Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin.**

**Status: Stable.**

**Admittance: July 24** **th** **, time of admittance: 12:27 p.m.**

**Cause of admittance: dip in blood sugar, fainting spell.**

**Duration: Unknown. Recommend keeping overnight for future testing for observation until condition improves. Husband acting as support person to pick up patient at time of patient's discharge and release. TK.**

Tonks didn't know whose initials TK belonged to, but she decided if she met them, they would get a swift punch to their jawline. She didn't belong here; she did not see the need to be kept overnight like a lab rat.

The young witch blearily sat up straighter, propping herself up against the stiffened pillows, the thick blue woolen blanket draped across her lap had been heated and that felt nice, but this wasn't their bedroom at home.

Glancing sideways at the night table next to the hospital room's bed, she could see a few Get Well cards from her colleagues and friends at the Ministry, a few from members of the Order, a small stuffed white bear, probably from Ginny Weasley if she had to hazard a guess at the giver.

A vase of simple but beautiful purple wildflowers, they looked like lilacs sat perched next to her hospital bed. "What the hell happened?"

Wearily, she reached for the water glass at her bedside table. Waves of heat seemed to course through her bloodstream, a cold sweat glistening on her slightly gaunt features. The glass of water was staring at Tonks from its perch on the coaster on the table, beads of condensation forming on the outside of the glass. She took a weak sip and plopped her head back against the pillow, feeling utterly defeated and exhausted, resigning herself to maybe it wouldn't be the worst idea if she were to stay here overnight.

Remus lifted his head, his grip on her left hand tightened slightly as he noticed she was awake. "Hey," he said gently, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "You're awake," he breathed, sounding immensely relieved.

The look of heartbreak in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

"What happened?" she croaked hoarsely, surprised at how much her throat hurt. She winced as she reached for the water glass and took a sip.

"It's so good to see you. I thought, maybe…how are you feeling?" he demanded suddenly, his handsome face contorting into a frown. "Does your head still hurt? Are you still feeling sick? We're in St. Mungo's, sweetheart. You got sick and passed out and hit your head, but you're okay, I hope. The Healers are still running some tests on you, Dora."

Tonks smiled weakly and nodded, showing Remus that she understood and was fully awake, though it hurt even to do that as she gingerly lifted her hand to study the brilliant moonstone wedding ring she wore proudly on her left hand. "Hey, Dora," Remus's voice spoke up, sounding concerned. "You know you're going to be just fine, right? I promise. I won't let anything happen to you, honey," he said, though his voice cracked slightly.

"I know," she whispered, her knuckles white as she clutched the blanket tighter around herself for warmth. It was unnaturally cold in this bloody hospital room. "I'm just it's just food poisoning or something. Yeah, that's all it is, I bet. But if I'm not okay, then I wanted to say—"

"Don't go there, Dora," he pleaded desperately, pinching his nose with the bridge of his thumb and forefinger, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"Go where, hon? This is here, there is here, here is now. This is happening," she explained, furrowing her brow as she reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Can I finish, hon? Please. Let me talk," Tonks begged, needing to say what was on her mind. "I'm just trying to tell you, that if it's not, we're still okay, you and I. If we have each other, we're okay," she soothed, reaching up her free hand and stroking his light brown hair, the tips of her fingers lingering on his scars as she ran her hand down his cheek. He held her fingers in his and kissed them.

Remus rose from his chair just slightly to plant a gentle but passionate kiss on her lips. As they parted, Tonks saw his brown eyes sparkle and lips curve up into a little half-smile and she couldn't help but smile back.

Her mother had taken to calling her daughter's husband a 'diamond in the rough,' and Tonks knew what that meant. To her, though, Remus John Lupin was simply a diamond. The rest of the wizarding world could be as rough as it desired, but it never seemed to affect her beloved husband. Remus shone with an inner beauty and she let out a tiny sigh.

Though she was physically and emotionally exhausted, she quickly felt herself start to fall asleep in Lupin's arms as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed with her, she knew that if she was with Remus, she was safe. She guessed that was partially why she fell in love with him, that little sparkle in his eyes that made her feel vibrant and alive. Nothing and nobody could ever take that away from her. He was hers, and she was his. Forever.

Their moment alone was interrupted as a young Healer in her early forties opened the door, her set of lime green robes crisp and neat, her dark hair cut short in a stylish pixie, like Tonks' when it wasn't pink.

Her makeup neat and professional, her face said _I am someone you can come to for help._ White studs in her ears, black slip on clogs on her feet, she swiped Nymphadora's chart off the clipboard and studied it.

"Hey, you two. Mrs. Lupin, how are you? Judging by your appearance, I think you're going to be okay," she said kindly, revealing a white smile.

Poor Remus practically bolted upright from his spot, straightening his button-down shirt and running a hand through his light brown hair in attempt to smooth it. At the far end of Nymphadora's private room were windows in brown metal frames, only able to be opened at the very top.

"Okay what?" demanded Lupin, his tone clipped. "How's my wife?"

"She's fine, Mr. Lupin. No cause to be so alarmed. You're in perfect health," the young witch said, turning her attention to Tonks in the hospital's bed, who identified herself as Megan. In her manicured hands she held a copy of Tonks' charts and waved her wand lazily and a bottle of medication appeared in her hands. "She fainted, but that's expected."

"Really? I'm fine?" Tonks asked, not fully sure if she believed her.

"Really, yes," reassured Megan. "Aside from a very mild concussion from your fall when you passed out, brain function is completely normal. Same with your blood tests we ran while you were unconscious. And the recent stress likely contributed to your passing out this afternoon, but only because you're a tad anemic right now, but that's to be expected, ma'am."

Tonks stared, not getting it. "Wait. What? Why? Why is that to be expected?" she asked, exchanging a quick glance with Remus. One look at her husband was more than enough for her. He was just as lost as she was.

"Well, in your current condition," the Healer explained matter-of-factly. When neither patient nor Remus responded, she blinked owlishly at them for a few moments and ginned. "Oh. _Wow_ ," she emphasized, a pink blush speckling its way across her cheeks. "This is awkward, you didn't know, either of you. Yikes," she mumbled, averting Tonks' gaze.

"Know what?" asked Tonks, her curiosity piqued. She sat up a little straighter and held Remus's hand.

"You're expecting," Megan grinned.

"Expecting what?" Remus asked suspiciously, frowning at her.

"A baby," their Healer grinned. "You're pregnant, Mrs. Lupin. About ten weeks along, and the baby is healthy." Tonks felt her eyes grow wide and round and had opened her mouth to ask the doctor a question but a loud outburst from Lupin startled both women out of the happy news.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, and Tonks immediately sensed his temper swelling. "That's—that's not possible!" he shouted, seizing tufts of his hair and tugging on them. He looked quite livid. Like a true wolf.

"Rem, calm down," Tonks pleaded, a hand outstretched, not wanting her husband to cause a scene that might upset the other patients in the ward. "Can we just talk about this later at home after we get out of here?"

He took a deep breath to settle himself and collapsed back into his chair. Their Healer, sensing they needed a moment, slunk out of the room, her smile faltering, her wand clutched tightly between her fingers.

"Rem, there is no pressure on you. I mean…you can be as involved as you want," Tonks whispered. "But I…I'd like to keep it," she said quietly.

"I just…I don't know, I don't understand!" he cried desperately. "I don't understand how this happened, Dora. We—we used a contraceptive spell and I used one of those Muggle condoms you were telling me of."

"I know," she soothed. "I know, but you know, those things only work like ninety seven percent of the time. And for the spell, well, you were…distracted," she confessed, wringing her hands together until they hurt, remembering how passionate that night had been. How impatient he was, she'd wondered if he'd finished the spell.

"What? WHAT?" he bellowed. In a fit of anger, he waved his wand angrily and conjured the box Tonks had forced him to buy, squinting his eyes to read the tiny print."Well, then, they should put that little fact on the box, don't you think?" he shouted.

"They do!" Tonks protested, shoving her knuckles into her mouth. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry at seeing how panicked he was over this. They were going to have a baby, start their own family. This was something to celebrate, not condemn.

"NO THEY DON'T!" he shouted, his face draining of color, his gaze still fixated on the box. "Well, then...they should put it in huge black letters!" he cried, venom in his voice as he irately waved his wand and made the box vanish.

"Let's—let's talk later," Tonks pleaded, desperately not wanting to cause a scene. That was the last thing they needed. "For now, let me just rest. Close my eyes and...try to shake off this afternoon, yeah? I need you to be _calm_. We'll get through this, you and I. We're partners, we're married. It's what we do, and we'll get through this, no matter what."

Remus nodded, his face draining of color, still running his hands through his hair. A light seemed to ignite in his eyes as he looked at his wife. It was she who needed him to be the calm one right now, not the other way around. "What can I do for you, sweetheart? What do you need?" he demanded, coming over to sit on the edge of her bedside.

"Just shut up and hold me," she joked, feeling the beginnings of a smile creep onto her face as her husband without a word engulfed her in his arms. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, but she knew that she would never let him go.

Somehow, she knew everything would be ok.


	21. Ambush at the Wedding

Ginny Weasley wandered through the halls of St. Mungo's infirmary ward. The bored-looking witch at the reception desk had told her which floor to head towards, a bouquet of store-bought flowers in her hands.

Her mom had told her where to find the kind of flowers Tonks liked.

Finally, she spotted Tonks' private room, where a witch who wore the lime green robes of the Healers stood outside her door. When the woman lifted her chin slightly to meet Ginny's questioning gaze and look the redhead in the eyes, Ginny was momentarily taken aback.

She thought for certain she was looking at Tonks' doppelganger once Tonks hit her late thirties, perhaps early forties. They had the same heart-shaped face, same nose, same hairstyle, though Tonks' was slightly shorter and more colorful with her love for vibrant pinks and purples.

The Healer, whose nametag read Megan, smiled at Ginny kindly.

"Hi!" she chirped kindly. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice soft and kind and seemed to flow through the hallway like a soft spring breeze.

"I'm looking for the room of Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin?" Ginny asked. Once she'd gotten word from Mrs. Weasley Tonks was in St. Mungo's, she hadn't hesitated in making a quick trip to the hospital.

"In there, thought I'd watch your tone if I were you. Her husband is exceptionally short-tempered. I can't think of why, you'd think I just announced she has a life-threatening disease," the young Healer said kindly, though the briefest flickers of confusion passed through her orbs, her patient's clipboard in her hands and observing the redheaded woman before her for a moment in silence before sauntering off down the hallway, her lime green robes swishing and billowing behind her as she moved. Ginny stared after the young Healer, slightly dumbfounded.

Shaking her head to clear her mind of such hazy thoughts, Ginny wasted no time in wrenching open Tonks' hospital room door and let out a gasp at what she saw. "Oh, Merlin's beard!" she exclaimed violently. "Not you too! What happened, you guys?" Ginny groaned, seeing Remus sit in the chair next to his wife, looking thoroughly disgruntled. "Well?"

"I—I'm okay. I just…passed out," Tonks mumbled, the heat rising to her cheeks as she actively tried to avert her gaze and avoid Ginny's eyes.

"'Just?' People don't 'just' pass out, Tonks!" Ginny retorted hotly, tossing the bouquet of flowers aside. "I didn't come all the way out here to worry about you, so why don't you tell me what's really going on!"

"I'm fine," Tonks insisted, tucking a lock of pink hair back behind her ear, still looking at anywhere but at Ginny Weasley. "No need to worry!"

Ginny frowned, and for a split second, both Tonks and Remus visibly flinched. Whenever she tossed her red mane over her shoulders and narrowed her eyes to the point where they were nothing but slits, she bore an uncanny resemblance to Mrs. Weasley, and it unnerved them both.

"You're not fine. You're glowing," she muttered, eyes narrowed as she fixed Tonks with a stare that was unlike the kind Weasley. "Why are you glowing?" she demanded, not hesitating to drag a chair up to sit by the other side of Tonks' bed, completely ignoring the look Lupin was giving.

"We're not glowing!" protested Lupin, his temper still swelling.

"Mmm, _definitely_ glowing!" chirped Ginny, having eyes seemingly only for Tonks, a woman, who, although older than her by a few years, she considered a close friend, perhaps one of her best friends these days. "I didn't make the trip all the way out here, worrying about you all afternoon not to know why you are glowing. I sent along an owl to Kingsley at the Ministry, and he told me that you'd passed out earlier today. Spill it!"

Remus sighed and exchanged a weary glance with Tonks. "All right, Ginny, we haven't heard back from Tonks's parents yet or my father, so until they know, you cannot tell anyone. Do you understand me?"

His voice was unusually firm, and though he was smiling, Ginny noticed that his smile flickered, and it did not reach his light brown eyes.

Ginny nodded, having no time to dwell on Remus's strange behavior.

"Just until we let family know!" Tonks piped up quickly, noticing Ginny's eyes narrow as she processed their news. "Then you can tell…"

"Seriously?" Ginny asked, quirking her brow at the young pink haired Auror and her husband. "I'm not going to tell anyone. But…seriously? You're not joshing me around, are you? This—this isn't a joke?"

"No," answered Lupin solemnly. He seemed significantly less excited by their news than Tonks did. Tonks beside him, beaming and looking positively radiant at their surprise announcement. "I'm afraid not."

Tonks shot her husband a dark look, but didn't have time to open her mouth to argue as Ginny, much to their surprise, threw herself on top of Tonks' hospital bed, engulfing them both in a tight, vice-like hug, completely ignoring Remus's quiet protests to be gentle with Tonks.

"This is the best news ever, you guys! I'm so happy for you!" she squealed. "Wait till everyone else knows you're going to be parents!"

Tonks didn't know how long the three of them stayed like that, just content to be near each other, but she knew that it felt right, and she wouldn't trade it for anything else. _Not for anything in the world_ , she thought happily as she felt her eyelids begin to grow heavy and droop, exhausted from the day's efforts, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Her first in ages since she'd been taken away from Fenrir Greyback.

* * *

Tonks lingered near the reception table at Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour's wedding, in awe and slightly dazed at the copious amount of food. _Keep it together_ , her conscience reminded herself, glancing down at her outfit. She wouldn't start showing signs of her pregnancy for a few more weeks. Tonks had dressed for the special occasion in a simple black sleeveless lace dress and ballet flats, turning her signature pixie blonde for the occasion. She had indulged in one plate already, eating more than she thought was possible and still feeling like she couldn't get enough.

Her Healer and who was to be her midwife, Megan at St. Mungo's, had claimed this was all perfectly natural, the hormones changing her appetite, that she had nothing to worry about, but now, Tonks wasn't so sure of it.

She'd started on creamy nettle soup that felt warm and hot in her stomach. A handsome fish dish had followed that. The wedding attendants had laid a silver platter in front of the wedding guests, on top of which sat a fleshy pink strip of trout, garnished with dashings of green herbs that Tonks didn't know the names of, but liked how they tasted. The fish course was supplemented by a side plate of mussels and oysters. Their black shells lay open, the beige insides spilling out, sickening yet enticing.

Tonks had never eaten them before until now. They felt horrible on her tongue and she discreetly spit it out into her napkin, trying not to gag.

After the seafood dishes had been cleared away, the servants had returned from the kitchen with the main meal; a full spit-roasted pig, its skin a sizzling, mouth-watering golden brown, jaws pried open around a forest green apple. The two servants had harmonized their heavy breathing with the screeching wheels of the cart they'd magicked to roll itself automatically to the head table, where the bride and groom sat.

Cuts of the pork had been served with a refreshing apple sauce, easing the perfectly cooked meat down. She hadn't been able to handle the smell, covering her nose and stepping outside of the tent for some air.

"Damn," she swore under her breath, doubling over and trying to control her waves of nausea. "I—I can't," she managed to gasp out.

"It's the smell of the cooking meat, isn't it?" came a man's voice. "I recognize that symptom all too well, ma'am. I know it well. My wife, Norah, when she was pregnant at first, she could never stomach it, either. Sadly, we lost our baby. There were…complications, I'm afraid."

Startled, Tonks straightened and squinted into the darkness, trying to see. "Who's there?" she called out, her wand hand's fingers curling and tightening into a fist over her wand, prepared to defend herself if need be.

Tonks didn't know if it was because she was now pregnant, but she seemed to be increasingly paranoid these days, thinking every stranger was out to attack her or try to kidnap her. "Show yourself!" she demanded.

The Auror could see the shadow of a man lingering in the shadow of the tent, his arms folded across his chest, one leg crossed over the other.

When he stepped out into the shadows, his hands raised in surrender, Tonks drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs. "I—I know you, it's…"

The young man was dressed in a simple pair of slightly tattered brown dress robes that complimented his almost too-thin frame and dark tuft of brown hair. The young werewolf chuckled, lifting his chin, brushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes and met Tonks' gray eyes with his yellowing eyes. "Wes," he answered simply. "I—I used to be…part of Greyback's. I helped save your life with that little house elf." The wolf glanced around, as if half-expecting the strange creature to materialize out of thin air. "Thought for some reason he'd be with you. I was hoping to catch him and say thanks. I came to warn you about Greyback." He said the last word so softly it was barely above a whisper and Tonks had to strain and lean forward slightly to hear him. "I'm not affiliated with him anymore."

Tonks stared, not sure if she fully bought it, but then her expression softened as she recognized that look of heartbreak in the young wolf's eyes, having seen it for herself in the mirror several times, and in Lupin's.

"Why are you here?" she challenged, careful to keep her voice low, casting a nervous glance back towards the tent. Though Remus had informed her the following day in St. Mungo's that this young man had saved her life, she was not so sure the other wedding guests would be so kind to learn that a former wolf of Greyback's had crashed the wedding.

"I came to find you," the werewolf said, looking pained. "To warn you. It's your aunt. Bellatrix." Here he spat the word as if it were poison on his tongue. "They tortured me. They killed my Norah!" he shouted angrily.

"I still owe Bellatrix," growled Tonks angrily, her grip on her wand tightening, her knuckles white with the effort to remain calm. She still owed her aunt for Mad Eye Moody's death, and she very nearly killed her during the mission to escort Harry Potter safely to the Weasley's Burrow.

But Wes shook his head fervently. "Don't underestimate her, Miss Tonks, or is it Mrs. Lupin?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion as his gaze drifted down towards Tonks' left hand to eyeball her ring that glittered there. "I did, and my wife was the one who paid the price."

Tonks fell silent and stared, almost unable to bear the look of heartbreak in the young werewolf's eyes. She knew all too well what he was going through. To come so close to pure love and lose it so violently was something that no medication or potion could heal. If Fenrir and the others had gotten to this kid's wife, then the Auror knew there was no graveside for the poor young man to mourn by, no coffin to bury her in.

She knew just by one look that his heart was broken, what beat now in his chest and kept him alive was merely a mass of angry muscle that would function only until Wes could avenge his deceased wife. "She—she should have had a life," Wes cried, feeling angry tears begin to gather at the corners of his eyes. "She loved to laugh and dance, and I couldn't give her that. She knew what I was, and she married me anyways. I—I consider myself a decent creature," Wes lamented, beginning to restlessly pace outside the tent, seemingly forgetting where the young wolf was for a moment. "But when they killed her, what they took from me, they're going to regret what they did. I'll end Greyback for what he's done to me, what he did to Norah. I'm going to rip his throat out, tear him limb from limb and watch as he takes his last miserable breath, bleeding out," he snarled through gritted teeth, letting out a low growl from the back of his throat and baring his canines, and for a moment, Tonks was frightened of him. The Auror saw the shadow of the wolf cross his tired but still handsome features, and in the dim light, she held onto her wand even tighter without being made aware she was doing so.

"Calm down…Wes…" she began hesitantly, not sure what to say. Deep down, she believed this young man not to be a violent man, but once love had gone from his life, his violent tendencies took hold of him faster than even he could imagine. "You're not like the other wolves. Like them."

Wes's head whiplashed up so sharply to the left where she was standing, Tonks was surprised his neck didn't break from the strain of it.

"So, there's a them now?" he snarled, his voice dangerously quiet.

"You know what I mean!" pleaded Tonks, trying desperately to reach this young man. Desperately, she turned her head this way and that, searching for Remus. If anybody could reason with him, it was Remus.

"No, I don't think I do," Wes growled, his yellow eyes flashing. A lock of dark hair had tumbled in front of his face, and he irritably brushed it out of the way. "Please, Mrs. Lupin. Wife to werewolf Remus Lupin," he stated coldly, noticing how Tonks' face paled at his announcement. "Oh, yes," he added, the corners of his lips turning up into a twisted sneer. "Please. Feel free to elaborate and tell me what it is you think you mean."

"You're not that kind of werewolf, Wes. Please, whatever you're thinking of doing, don't do. I know," she managed through shaky breaths, backing away a few steps from the young wolf as he advanced, looking livid. "I know how much it hurts to lose someone you love, but…"

"And what kind of wolf am I?" bellowed Wes, absolutely beside himself with rage now. "The kind that needs to be muzzled? Euthanized?"

"No," Tonks cried. _Remus, where the hell are you? I need you…_

"So, let me ask you a question," growled the werewolf, leaning in so his nose was only an inch away from hers, closing off the gap of space between the two of them. "Are you afraid of me, Mrs. Lupin? Do you think I might lose it? Go savage, that I might try to eat you?" he roared, jumping at her.

Tonks let out muffled yelp and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over someone. A quick glance behind her over her shoulder and she felt herself breath an audible sigh of relief. "Rem," she whispered. "It's you."

He nodded, pressing his lips to her cheek for a quick kiss. "What's going on, Dora?" he asked, furrowing his brow in concern. "It's…Wes?"

Remus looked towards Wes, whose shoulders had slumped in defeat, and the look of disappointment on his handsome face was immeasurable.

Wes shoved his hands and his wand into the pockets of his worn dress robes, frowning at both Tonks and Lupin. "I knew it," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Just when I thought someone actually believed in me…"

The young werewolf turned on his heel and Disapparated with a loud crack. Remus stared after the spot where Wes had vanished with a frown of his own, his mind seemingly lost in thought until Tonks tugged on the sleeve of his dress robes and pulled him back inside the tent, to the food.

She could stomach the meat now that the smell had dissipated a little. The pork was accompanied by potatoes that were diced up in a bowl with carrots, mushrooms and zucchini topped off with a healthy dash of pepper that stung the throat in the most pleasurable way possible. Then after the pork, had come the desserts, the servants placing a slice of a cherry torte on the table in front of her and Lupin and the other wedding guests. The pastry had been light, both in texture and color, with a thick dark brown crust, all of which contrasted with the beautiful cherry red sauce that poured out of it. The torte was topped by a thin layer of icing sugar as white as snow, but as sharp as salt. She didn't know what to try next.

The festivities, however, were soon interrupted by the arrival of a well-known Patronus. "That's Kingsley's," Tonks whispered, horrified.

" _The Minister of Magic is dead. They are coming_ ," it warned, and before the Patronus had a chance to even dissolve, chaos broke out.

An unknown Death Eater fired a spell at Tonks and Remus, Tonks deflecting it with a well-aimed jinx of her own. A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout her body. Her stomach ached, her arms lost tension and her legs began to weaken as her opponent started to advance on her.

The Death Eater began to bark orders at his comrades, and when they disobeyed his orders, he began firing the Killing Curse as they fled the fight. Tonks was momentarily appalled by such despicable behavior.

"Well, well, well…killing your own subordinates in the back. Why am I not surprised?" Tonks called out quietly from the shadows, behind one of the pillars upon which the tent was being supported. "You can't stoop much lower than that, now can you? Seeing as your arms and legs aren't missing yet, I guess this means you haven't met up with our department…"

The Death Eater ripped off his mask, revealing himself to be Dolohov.

He grinned wickedly, sneering at the young Auror in front of him, she who was reportedly ignoring her husband's screams to get to safety quickly. "You're the one I've been waiting to meet, Mrs. Lupin. I've heard all about your skills. You're quite talented, sweet thing. And now here we are together. I want to screw you, Tonks," he grinned, shooting her a furtive wink, ignoring Lupin's look of utter outrage as he reached for his wand, but Tonks held out her arm, silently shaking her head no.

Tonks sent a Freezing Charm the Death Eater's way so fast the man barely had any time to react, frozen and speechless at the young woman's skill, but then again, the Ministry only hired the best of the best, the brightest to become Aurors. She kicked aside his stiff body and stepped on his groin with her shoe. He would have cried out in pain at the harsh jab, but he was rendered speechless for the moment. Bruised slightly and winded with a leg in agony, Tonks grabbed the foot of the Death Eater and dragged him across the floor, so she was at his level, kneeling by the man's face. Her head was pounding. She brought a fist to the man's face, snapping his nose into a bloody grotesquerie. "You wanted to challenge _me_ to a fight? Don't make me laugh. You think I'd waste the energy drawn on a third-rate sack of shit like you? Don't get me wrong, I'd love to kill you. But if you're actually happy to die, that's a different story. You've wasted enough of my time, Dolohov."

When he'd finally regained the power of speech, he was beside himself. "How dare you, you fucking bitch?! Get the hell back here! Don't you walk away from me, you heartless bitch! Stop, goddamn it!"

Tonks laughed, flipping him off, grabbing her husband's hand. "Sack of shit!" she taunted, right as they Disapparated and vanished.

The fight was far from over. The war had only just begun….


	22. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This contains real dialogue from the Bribe Chapter, of Deathly Hallows. Wouldn't be a HP Lupin story without this part, quite frankly it's one of my favorite parts of the entire series, where Harry calls Lupin out for how much of a coward he's being, thinking of abandoning Tonks.

White knuckled from clenching his fists too hard and gritted teeth from his immense effort to remain silent, Remus's hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid—burning, slicing, and potent. His face was white with suppressed rage, and when Tonks even sent a gentle finger on his shoulder to give that usual reassuring squeeze that calmed him down most of the time, he swung around and mentally snapped at his wife. They'd barely managed to Disapparate with their lives. "What were you _thinking_ , Dora?" he shouted, balling his hands into fists. "You—you're not like me, you're not Kingsley. Don't forget you're pregnant! Are you _stupid_? No. You're not. You're just a bit thick in the head, Dora!" he yelled, feeling his face go ashen as it drained of whatever color was left. Silently fuming in his anger, he ran his hands through his tuft of brown hair in anguish and turned away from Tonks as she kicked off her shoes and sat at the foot of their bed back in her little apartment.

Tonks stared, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. She looked as though Remus had slapped her, her mouth slightly agape.

"I was there, just like the rest of you. I had to do something!" she retorted hotly, her arms folded across her chest, her legs crossed. "It shouldn't matter that I'm pregnant or not, don't forget, I'm an Auror. I can take care of myself." Tonks huffed in frustration, glowering at him.

Lupin felt the last vestiges of his patience snap and that was when he lost it. "I DON'T CARE THAT YOU'RE AN AUROR!" he yelled.

Flustered, Tonks was rendered speechless at his outburst. She could handle his fiery outbursts, those tended to burn bright and fast. It was these bitter cold moments that threatened to engulf their relationship.

There was a cold burning to Remus's rage, an ice that scared Tonks. She'd seen that look in his eyes before, but never directed towards her. It was how he showed his hatred, dominance, and imparted fear on his enemies, namely Greyback. She'd seen the same look in his eyes the night he rescued her. In one stride, he was in her face. "You—you impossible idiot!" he growled, and for just a brief moment, the shadow of the wolf crossed his handsome features, making him look truly terrifying to her.

Tonks was given no time to react as he caught her head in his hands and kissed her. She was suddenly rendered frozen as his mouth covered hers. His warm lips were gentle but firm, passionate in his anger at her.

Remus drew away quickly. "Don't you get it?" he growled angrily.

Tonks could hardly swallow. Heat engulfed her body as a light blush speckled across her cheeks as she grimaced. _Why did I let him use me like that?_ She wondered, shooting a venomous look of daggers Lupin's way.

She shivered with anger as well as fear.

These moments were the ones that scared her the most.

"Then please, tell me what it is you think I don't understand. Talk to me, but don't yell," she began shakily, closing her eyes and willing herself to remain calm. "Tell me why you're so upset. Let's—let's talk this out."

"Don't you understand what I've done to you by marrying you?" Remus shouted, still seizing tufts of his hair and tugging on it slightly. He restlessly paced their bedroom, looking beside himself, similar in the same fashion that the much younger werewolf, Wes, had earlier in their encounter. "Because of me and my…inability to control myself, you're _pregnant_ with my demonic child. I've endangered your life, because of what I am, a monster, and do you honestly think that I could love it, watching it kill you slowly from the inside. That I could even _tolerate_ our baby, Dora, if it _killed_ you? _No_. Don't ask me to. You would be much better off if we got rid of it before it kills you," he spat, sounding utterly disgusted with himself. Every word stung, only fueling the fire that burned inside of Tonks. Every violated phrase was like oil on water in her bloodstream. Her fists began to clench, and her jaw rooted and locked in place. When the final word had been added as words flew from Lupin's mouth that she never thought he would think let alone utter, she knew they had hit their mark. She exploded with anger, her wrath like fire.

A fire seemed to ignite in her gray eyes, ready to scorch anything they came into contact with. For now, that thing was her husband.

Not even needing her wand, objects levitated in their bedroom and broke, sending shattering glass fragments everywhere. Her primeval instinct took over, and as soon as it had come, her energy drained and she lost the will to fight with her husband. " _Go_." When Remus did not respond, she bit her bottom lip in frustration, shoving him back away from her as her husband advanced, looking incredibly pained and seemingly wanting to offer some form of comfort. But it was too late for that. He'd made it perfectly clear how he felt about their pregnancy.

"GET OUT!" Tonks screamed, balling her hands into fists. Before she could stop herself, tears began forming, spilling down her cheeks. A muscle in her jaw twitching, she turned away, hating herself. "I can see now you never wanted this for yourself. What kind of horrible life have I led you in, Rem? You have a wife who loves you more than she loves herself, and we're going to have a baby, a beautiful daughter or son to love and cherish and help grow, and you can't even see that! Oh no, it's all about you. You only ever think yourself and your suffering, never anyone else's. You really think you have the market cornered on human suffering? Well, let me tell you something about people like me, Remus."

Her voice was clipped and hard, and dangerously soft. Timid, even. "People like me feel lost and little and ugly," she began, turning back to face Remus, whose face held such a look of heartbreak and anguish. She knew he hadn't meant what he said, but it was too late to take it back now. And now, it was too late. "People like me have husbands who…hate them!" she sobbed. "People like me have colleagues who hate them, but none of that matters. It's you who I care about the most, and whenever you look at me like you're doing now with such—such anger in your eyes, I—I hate you then! I know I've disappointed you; I know you deserve better, but we're all we've got, Remus! Why isn't that enough? Am I not enough for you?" Tonks bellowed, screaming now.

Remus was stunned, at a loss for words and how to respond to this.

"It's like I wake up every morning, and…I fail," she wailed. "And—and I look around and everyone else seems to be pulling up, but I can't."

"You're enough," he responded, the anger in his voice gone. Now he merely sounded deflated, defeated. "You're much more than enough."

When he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, jerking away from his tender touch. " _Go_ ," she snapped, her tone cold. "I think you've said more than enough, Remus."

Remus hesitated, but gave a curt nod and Disapparated, leaving her alone. Brick by brick, her walls came tumbling down. As she ran to the bathroom, the tears in her eyes turned the now-rainy sky into a whirlwind of grays and blacks. She slammed the bathroom door. She didn't care if anyone saw anymore. Tonks just broke down. The sobs punched through, ripping through her muscles, bones, and her guts.

Tonks pressed her forehead against the wall of the door and began to let her heart yank in and out of her chest. As Mrs. Weasley was often fond of telling her, better to just let it all out than to keep it inside.

She cried. Over and over. In and out. She felt hollow, empty inside.

Her life crumbled in her fingertips as she buried her face in her hands.

Then suddenly, her mom and dad were there, patting and rubbing her back in small circles. They reached into their daughter's hollowness.

Andromeda and Ted did their best to reassure her it was going to be okay. But she knew better. And she in particular was nowhere near ok.

* * *

"Fine mess, fine mess, now she hates you!" Lupin bellowed, pacing restlessly the streets near Grimmauld Place. He'd been wandering the streets of London for two days, afraid to return home to Tonks, fearing what she would think of him after this. "Now she hates you, because you're a nasty, nasty animal, and you deserve this!" he bellowed, seizing tufts of his light brown hair, stifling the animalistic growl that threatened to escape from the back of his throat. He couldn't lose his temper now.

He paused on the top step of Grimmauld Place, wondering if it would be worth it, but he had an intuitive feeling he knew Harry and the others would have Apparated here following the ambush at the wedding.

Lupin hesitantly knocked, and when he heard Harry's muffled voice on the other side of the door, he barely managed to suppress a small smile. "Hold your fire, it's me, Remus!"

"Oh, thank goodness," said Hermione weakly, pointing her wand at Mrs. Black instead; with a bang, the curtains swished shut again and silence fell. Ron too lowered his wand, but Harry did not.

"Show yourself!" he called back.

Lupin moved forward into the lamplight; hands still held high in a gesture of surrender. "I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, sometimes known as Moony, one of the four creators of the Marauder's Map, married to Nymphadora, who I love more than life itself, though she's usually known as Tonks, and I taught you how to produce a Patronus, Harry, which takes the form of a stag."

"Oh, all right," said Harry, lowering his wand, "but I had to check, didn't I?"

"Speaking as your ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I quite agree that you had to check. Ron, Hermione, you shouldn't be so quick to lower your defenses." They ran down the stairs towards him. Wrapped in a thick black traveling cloak, he looked exhausted, but pleased to see them. "No sign of Severus, then?" he asked.

"No," said Harry. "What's going on? Is everyone okay?"

"Yes," said Lupin, "but we're all being watched. There are a couple of Death Eaters in the square outside-"

"We know-"

"I had to Apparate very precisely onto the top step outside the front door to be sure that they would not see me. They can't know you're in here or I'm sure they'd have more people out there; they're staking out everywhere that's got any connection with you, Harry. Let's go downstairs, there's a lot to tell you, and I want to know what happened after you left the Burrow." They descended into the kitchen, where Hermione pointed her wand at the grate.

A fire sprang up instantly: It gave the illusion of coziness to the stark stone walls and glistened off the long wooden table. Lupin pulled a few butterbeers from beneath his traveling cloak and they sat down. "I'd have been here three days ago but I needed to shake off the Death Eater tailing me," said Lupin. "So, you came straight here after the wedding?"

"No," said Harry, "only after we ran into a couple of Death Eaters in a cafe on Tottenham Court Road."

Lupin slopped most of his butterbeer down his front. "What?"

They explained what had happened; when they had finished, Lupin looked aghast. "But how did they find you so quickly? It's impossible to track anyone who Apparates, unless you grab hold of them as they disappear."

"And it doesn't seem likely they were just strolling down Tottenham Court Road at the time, does it?" said Harry.

"We wondered," said Hermione tentatively, "whether Harry could still have the Trace on him?"

"Impossible," said Lupin. Ron looked smug, and Harry felt hugely relieved. "Apart from anything else, they'd know for sure Harry was here if he still had the Trace on him, wouldn't they? But I can't see how they could have tracked you to Tottenham Court Road, that's worrying, really worrying." He looked disturbed, but as far as Harry was concerned, that question could wait.

"Tell us what happened after we left, we haven't heard a thing since Ron's dad told us the family was safe."

"Well, Kingsley saved us," said Lupin. "Thanks to his warning most of the wedding guests were able to Disapparate before they arrived."

"Were they Death Eaters or Ministry people?" interjected Hermione.

"A mixture; but to all intents and purposes they're the same thing now," said Lupin. "There were about a dozen of them, but they didn't know you were there, Harry. Arthur heard a rumor that they tried to torture your whereabouts out of Scrimgeour before they killed him; if it's true, he didn't give you away."

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione; their expressions reflected the mingled shock and gratitude he felt. He had never liked Scrimgeour much, but if what Lupin said was true, the man's final act had been to try to protect Harry.

"The Death Eaters searched the Burrow from top to bottom," Lupin went on. "They found the ghoul, but didn't want to get too close- and then they interrogated those of us who remained for hours. They were trying to get information on you, Harry, but of course nobody apart from the Order knew that you had been there." "At the same time that they were smashing up the wedding, more Death Eaters were forcing their way into every Order-connected house in the country. No deaths," he added quickly, forestalling the question, "but they were rough. They burned down Dedalus Diggle's house, but as you know he wasn't there, and they used the Cruciatus Curse on Tonks's family. Again, trying to find out where you went after you visited them. They're all right- shaken, obviously, but otherwise okay."

"The Death Eaters got through all those protective charms?"

Harry asked, remembering how effective these had been on the night he had crashed in Tonks's parents' garden. "What you've got to realize, Harry, is that the Death Eaters have got the full might of the Ministry on their side now," said Lupin. "They've got the power to perform brutal spells without fear of identification or arrest. They managed to penetrate every defensive spell we'd cast against them, and once inside, they were completely open about why they'd come."

"And are they bothering to give an excuse for torturing Harry's whereabouts out of people?" asked Hermione, an edge to her voice.

"Well," Lupin said. He hesitated, then pulled out a folded copy of the Daily Prophet. "Here," he said, pushing it across the table to Harry, "you'll know sooner or later anyway. That's their pretext for going after you."

Harry smoothed out the paper. A huge photograph of his own face filled the front page. He read the headline over it:

_WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_ Ron and Hermione gave roars of outrage, but Harry said nothing. He pushed the newspaper away; he did not want to read anymore: He knew what it would say. Nobody but those who had been on top of the tower when Dumbledore died knew who had really killed him and, as Rita Skeeter had already told the Wizarding world, Harry had been seen running from the place moments after Dumbledore had fallen. "I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said.

"So, Death Eaters have taken over the Daily Prophet too?" asked Hermione furiously.

Lupin nodded.

"But surely people realize what's going on?"

"The coup has been smooth and virtually silent," said Lupin. "The official version of Scrimgeour's murder is that he resigned; he has been replaced by Pius Thicknesse, who is under the Imperius Curse."

"Why didn't Voldemort declare himself Minister of Magic?" asked Ron.

Lupin laughed, a short, bark-like laugh. "He doesn't need to, Ron. Effectively, he is the Minister, but why should he sit behind a desk at the Ministry? His puppet, Thicknesse, is taking care of everyday business, leaving Voldemort free to extend his power beyond the Ministry." "Naturally many people have deduced what has happened: There has been such a dramatic change in Ministry policy in the last few days, and many are whispering that Voldemort must be behind it. However, that is the point: They whisper. They daren't confide in each other, not knowing whom to trust; they are scared to speak out, in case their suspicions are true and their families are targeted. Yes, Voldemort is playing a very clever game. Declaring himself might have provoked open rebellion: Remaining masked has created confusion, uncertainty, and fear."

"And this dramatic change in Ministry policy," said Harry, "involves warning the Wizarding world against me instead of Voldemort?"

"That's certainly a part of it," said Lupin, "and it is a masterstroke. Now that Dumbledore is dead, you- the Boy Who Lived, were sure to be the symbol and rallying point for any resistance to Voldemort. But by suggesting that you had a hand in the old hat's death, Voldemort has not only set a price upon your head, but sown doubt and fear amongst many who would have defended you."

"Meanwhile, the Ministry has started moving against Muggle-borns."

Lupin pointed at the Daily Prophet. "Look at page two."

Hermione turned the pages with much the same expression of distaste she had when handling Secrets of the Darkest Art. "Muggle-born Register!" she read aloud. "'The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called "Muggle-borns" the better to understand how they came to possess magical secrets. "'Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries reveals that magic can only be passed from person to person when Wizards reproduce. Where no proven Wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force. "'The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission.'"

"People won't let this happen," said Ron.

"It is happening, Ron," said Lupin wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He sounded absolutely exhausted and at his wit's end. "Muggle-borns are being rounded up as we speak."

"But how are they supposed to have 'stolen' magic?" said Ron. "It's mental, if you could steal magic there wouldn't be any Squibs, would there?"

"I know," said Lupin. "Nevertheless, unless you can prove that you have at least one close Wizarding relative, you are now deemed to have obtained your magical power illegally and must suffer the punishment."

Ron glanced at Hermione, then said, "What if purebloods and halfbloods swear a Muggle-born's part of their family? I'll tell everyone Hermione's my cousin- "

Hermione covered Ron's hand with hers and squeezed it. "Thank you, Ron, but I couldn't let you-"

"You won't have a choice," said Ron fiercely, gripping her hand back. "I'll teach you my family tree so you can answer questions on it."

Hermione gave a shaky laugh. "Ron, as we're on the run with Harry Potter, the most wanted person in the country, I don't think it matters. If I was going back to school, it would be different. What's Voldemort planning for Hogwarts?" she asked Lupin.

"Attendance is now compulsory for every young witch and wizard," he replied. "That was announced yesterday. It's a change, because it was never obligatory before. Of course, nearly every witch and wizard in Britain has been educated at Hogwarts, but their parents had the right to teach them at home or send them abroad if they preferred. This way, Voldemort will have the whole Wizarding population under his eye from a young age. And it's also another way of weeding out Muggle-borns, because students must be given Blood Status, meaning that they have proven to the Ministry that they are of Wizard descent before they are allowed to attend."

Harry felt sickened and angry: At this moment, excited eleven-year-olds would be poring over stacks of newly purchased spell-books, unaware that they would never see Hogwarts, perhaps never see their families again either. "It's... it's..." he muttered, struggling to find words that did justice to the horror of his thoughts, but Lupin said quietly,

"I know." Lupin hesitated. "I'll understand if you can't confirm this, Harry, but the Order is under the impression that Dumbledore left you a mission."

"He did," Harry replied, "and Ron and Hermione are in on it and they're coming with me."

"Can you confide in me what the mission is?"

Harry looked into the prematurely lined face, at the flecks of gray in his otherwise beautiful tuft of thick brown hair, cropped short, though right now it was disheveled and unkempt from the wind outside, and wished that he could return a different answer. "I can't, Remus, I'm sorry. If Dumbledore didn't tell you I don't think I can."

"I thought you'd say that," said Lupin, looking disappointed. "But I might still be of some use to you. You know what I am and what I can do. I could come with you to provide protection. There would be no need to tell me exactly what you were up to."

Harry hesitated. It was a very tempting offer, though how they would be able to keep their mission secret from Lupin if he were with them all the time he could not imagine.

Hermione, however, looked puzzled. "But what about Tonks?" she asked.

"What about her?" said Lupin. His tone was clipped and hard.

"Well," said Hermione, frowning, "you're _married_! How does she feel about you going away with us?"

"Tonks will be perfectly safe," said Lupin, "She'll be at her parents' house." There was something strange in Lupin's tone, it was almost cold. There was also something odd in the idea of Tonks remaining hidden at her parents' house; she was, after all, a member of the Order and, as far as Harry knew, was likely to want to be in the thick of the action.

"Remus," said Hermione tentatively, "is everything all right... you know... between you and-"

"Everything is fine, thank you," said Lupin pointedly. Hermione turned pink. There was another pause, an awkward and embarrassed one, and then Lupin said, with an air of forcing himself to admit something unpleasant, "Tonks is going to have a baby."

"Oh, how wonderful!" squealed Hermione.

"Excellent!" said Ron enthusiastically.

"Congratulations," said Harry.

Lupin gave an artificial smile that was more like a grimace, then said, "So... do you accept my offer? Will three become four? I cannot believe that Dumbledore would have disapproved, he appointed me your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, after all. And I must tell you that I believe we are facing magic many of us have never encountered or imagined." Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry.

"Just- just to be clear," he said. "You want to leave Tonks at her parents' house and come away with us?"

"She'll be perfectly safe there, they'll look after her," said Lupin. He spoke with a finality bordering on indifference: "Harry, I'm sure James would have wanted me to stick with you."

"Well," said Harry slowly, "I'm not. I'm pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren't sticking with your own kid, actually."

Lupin's face drained of color. The temperature in the kitchen might have dropped ten degrees. Ron stared around the room as though he had been bidden to memorize it, while Hermione's eyes swiveled backward and forward from Harry to Lupin. "You don't understand," said Lupin at last.

"Explain, then," said Harry.

Lupin swallowed. "I—I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgment and have regretted it very much ever since."

"I see," said Harry, "so you're just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?"

Lupin sprang to his feet: His chair toppled over backward, and he glared at them so fiercely that Harry saw, for the first time ever, saw the shadows of the wolf upon his human face. "Don't you understand what I've done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her; I've made her an outcast!" Lupin kicked aside the chair he had overturned. "You have only ever seen me amongst the Order, or under Dumbledore's protection at Hogwarts! You don't know how most of the Wizarding world sees creatures like me! When they know of my affliction, they can barely talk to me! Don't you see what I've done! Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents want their only daughter to marry a werewolf? And the child- the child-"

Lupin actually seized handfuls of his own hair; he looked quite deranged. "My kind don't usually breed! It will be like me, I am convinced of it- how can I forgive myself, when I knowingly risked passing on my own condition to an innocent child? And if, by some miracle, it is not like me, then it will be better off, a hundred times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed!"

"Remus!" whispered Hermione, tears in her eyes. "Don't say that- how could any child be ashamed of you?"

"Oh, I don't know, Hermione," said Harry. "I'd be pretty ashamed of him." Harry did not know where his rage was coming from, but it had propelled him to his feet too. Lupin looked as though Harry had hit him. "If the new regime thinks Muggle-borns are bad," Harry said, "What will they do to a half-werewolf whose father's in the Order? My father died trying to protect my mother and me, and you reckon he'd tell you to abandon your kid to go on an adventure with us?"

"How— how dare you?" shouted Lupin. "This is not about a desire for—for danger or personal glory- how dare you suggest such a-"

"I think you're feeling a bit of a daredevil," Harry said, "You fancy stepping into Sirius's shoes-"

"Harry, no!" Hermione begged him, but he continued to glare into Lupin's livid face.

"I'd never have believed this," Harry said. "The man who taught me to fight dementors- a coward."

Lupin drew his wand so fast that Harry had barely reached for his own; there was a loud bang and he felt himself flying backward as if punched; as he slammed into the kitchen wall and slid to the floor, he glimpsed the tail of Lupin's cloak disappearing around the door.

Remus stormed out of Grimmauld Place, slamming the door so hard that it rattled in its hinges on his way out, Disapparating with a loud crack the moment he set foot outside. Self-hatred burned in his heart so deep that it was ingrained permanently it felt like in his tissue and bloodstream.

Not wanting to return home to Tonks just yet, he fled to Diagon Alley, seething and hating himself. He rested his hand on the rough paintwork that coated the door of the tavern and pushed. Rough wooden splinters cut into his palm, piercing the skin hard enough that it bled, but he barely felt it. Shards of black paint crumbled to the floor and the hinges squealed as though they were a warning, but their plea was silenced by a wall of noise as Remus set foot in the tavern for a drink.

It could have been water in the glass, but it wasn't. It wasn't and everybody who cared to pay attention in the bar knew it. Even at three in the afternoon that transparent liquid that bathed the ice in the class was a mixture of a vodka and Fire Whiskey and that wasn't even the start of it.

A sour and vile taste slipped into Lupin's mouth, nullifying him, stealing away his harsh reality in favor of fantasy of his own mind, a world where he wasn't afflicted with the curse of being a werewolf, he could live out his life with Tonks and their baby in peace, no worries needed.

What he needed would never come to him, no matter how much he sought for it, he wouldn't find it. He wasn't born for great things, nor to find his place in the sun. As a werewolf, he was cursed to a life in the shadows. He could try ever day, work for what he needed, but there were no paths in his life that led to success, not from here, not right now.

The ice fell against the glass, Remus's fingers sliding on the condensation before his fingers regained their grip. He felt the chill run down his esophagus and his head made an involuntarily shake. A numbness crept into his brain the way it did whenever he drank. When he'd drained his glass, he took the ice cube between his molars and bit down on it hard with his canines, feeling it melt into cold pools on his palate. Not wanting to linger any longer than he had to, he downed his second glass and Disapparated back to Tonks's flat. She wasn't home yet.

He sat in the pit that had become his world, the only decorations his own nail marks on the walls he could not scale. Though he knew there was light at the top, it felt like it was a million miles away, and were it not for Tonks being down here with him, Remus felt like he wouldn't try to.

Every time he reached out with love to someone up there, someone he hoped could throw him a rope, the floor sank a little lower, jolting his body as it stops, crushing Remus with a new pain, another abandonment.

First it had been James and Lily, and then Sirius. And now his Dora…

As he glanced around her empty apartment flat, he realized that perhaps now it was time for him to realize that he wasn't himself he was supposed to get out, but his wife. And so, he let himself become accustomed to the darkness that Tonks had dwelled in for the last few months and see that intermingled with the marks of his own nails were hers too, older though, the blood long dried. And then, Remus knew it.

She gave up because there was nothing for her to do and that the best day of her life was when Remus fell into that dark pit with her, the day they lost their first child, their tears running together. "I'll get you out."

He did not know where this sudden, fierce determination was coming from, but Harry Potter's words lingered in his head, refusing to part from his thoughts, almost taunting him. _You reckon James would tell you to go abandon your kid to go on an adventure with us? You're a coward_!

Remus felt a surge of determination course through his veins, though he wasn't sure if it was loyalty to his wife or a fierce protectiveness.

Maybe both. "I'm going to get you out, Dora. I promise. If it's the last thing I ever do, I will," he whispered to no one in particular, though he hoped that she could hear him somehow, whether she was out running errands or over at her parents' house. "Because…that's how I know I can love you like I was meant to, that I can put you and our baby first, even when my own winter is at its darkest. I love you, sweetheart. I really do."

This is how he knew who he was at his core, that even this despairing pain he was feeling could be seen as a gift, a chance to know what he, Remus John Lupin, was really made of, to earn his own respect, after all.

A flash of white caught his eye as he wandered the living room of their flat. Frowning, he held it up. It looked like a bottle of pills.

He realized what it was, and his heart immediately sank to the pit of his stomach, just as a loud crack outside Tonks's front door told Remus she was home. Swallowing nervously, his fingers curled into a fist around the bottle as she threw open the door and dropped her bag onto the sofa.

When she finally found her voice again, Tonks sounded defeated.

"You came back." Her voice was flat, emotionless. "Why?"

"I…" Remus looked away sharply, his eye behind its lid twitching involuntarily. "I was wrong, Dora. To leave you. I am so sorry, and I know that nothing I can do will ever make up for my despicable behavior, but I swear to you here and now, with Merlin and God and whoever else as my witness, I'm not leaving you or our baby alone ever again. But you and I, we need to talk, Dora. Do you have something you want to tell me?" He took a deep breath to settle down his nerves.

Tonks stared, not angry with Lupin, but the look of heartbreak in her eyes was too much to bear. She saw what he was holding in his hand and her already pale face blanched until it was chalk white, making her look washed out, the vibrant burgundy hue of her dark pink pixie today standing out against her skin. "I couldn't do it," she whispered. "I threw them up," she managed flatly, collapsing onto the sofa and pulling her knees close to her chest. She lifted her chin, jutting it out slightly to glare at Lupin, who was frowning at his wife, looking like he'd slapped her.

"Did you?" he challenged hotly, feeling his temper begin to rise again.

"I threw them up," shouted Tonks, her face paling in anger now.

Remus let out a tired sigh, taking the empty seat on the cushion next to Tonks, averting her gaze for a few moments. The silence was thick, uncomfortable. Unable to bear it a second longer, Tonks spoke up.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, sounding almost frightened of what Remus would think, what he would do. "You can yell if you want. Scream at me if you have to, but…say something, Remus. _Please_."

Remus sat the bottle of pills on the coffee table, not wanting to look at them a moment longer than he had to. Tonks took that as her sign to continue. "You want me to bring a baby into this?" she shouted. "To live a short cruel life in a war-torn zone, where it might be killed, Remus?"

"So, _this_ is the solution?" Remus demanded, narrowing his eyes.

Tonks glared at him. "Rem. _I threw them up_ ," she emphasized, feeling tears prick and begin to well at the corner of her eyes. "I—I screwed up, Remus!" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

"We can make it work," Remus said at last, calmly and quietly.

"How?" managed his wife in barely a whisper. "Tell me. How."

"We'll figure it out. Sh—shouldn't we try to figure this out, sweetheart? You threw—you threw up the pills. You want our baby. I _know_ you do. And…" Here Lupin hesitated, but he fought it back down. "But Dumbledore told me once, that day that we…we lost our son," his voice cracked but he fought back the urge, needing himself to be strong. "That—that there was no reason why—why someone like me, a—and someone like you couldn't…couldn't…have a baby together, Dora."

"What you and I want, Rem, it isn't right. To bring a baby into this," Tonks said desperately, wiping away the last of her tears with a flick of her wrist, sniffing once or twice as she shifted in her seat to look at him.

"But not even giving it a chance isn't right, either, Dora!" he protested. He ran a hand through his light brown hair in anguish.

"Maybe this is why I didn't want to tell you," whispered Tonks.

"I—I still don't understand _why_!" cried Lupin desperately. "You—you really think I'd make you have a baby that you don't want, Dora?"

"No." Her voice was dangerously soft. "No. So that if I went through with it, it would be on _my_ conscience. _Not_ yours," Tonks said quietly.

"Maybe that's true, but I…I can't live like this anymore, Tonks. We can't live like this anymore, sweetheart. I was wrong to leave you. For that, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you and our baby."

He rested his hand on the swell of her still very flat abdomen tenderly.

"I promise," he swore, not a trace of joking in his tone as he cupped his wife's chin in his hand, forcing it up so she was forced to look at him.

Tonks smiled. Her soft, pink lips stretched into a smile, but it didn't quite reach her gray eyes. Lupin knew all too well what she was thinking.

If he would leave her again. Her eyes were lit with sadness, and the forced expression of the contrary on her mouth would have looked comical to him if it didn't make his heart feel heavy. For a just a moment, he stared at his wife, almost certain that her expression mirrored his again. It broke his heart. He didn't want her to leave him. He did not want to turn into a random image that floated in the pool of her memory. Remus didn't want to be the smile that squeezed his wife's chest somewhere far away. He didn't want her to go. He wanted her and her beautiful white smile to stay, to be in love with him forever, so it was going to be up to him to make sure that Dora knew he was staying. "Love me?" she whispered, leaning in to kiss his warm lips.

He grinned into their kiss, one of his hands drifting towards the back of her skull, pressing into her hair softly, the other resting on her stomach.

"Until the end of the world, Mrs. Lupin."


	23. Teddy Remus Lupin

Tonks crossed her legs, grateful she’d thought to wear the new black maternity dress Mrs. Weasley had so graciously gone with her to pick out last weekend, as she desperately needed new clothes now that she was expecting a baby. She tapped her leg restlessly; glad she’d opted to wear flip flops instead of her combat boots today. The more her pregnancy progressed, she was grateful Madam Malkin’s devoted an entire section in the witch’s section of her shop towards maternity clothing. The blustery April morning spent in the St. Mungo’s waiting room for her checkup appointment was as old as the coffee cup in her hand. She tapped its murky surface to break the thickening skin and watched the new gap grow with a purple manicured finger, scrunching her nose in disgust. The frigid brown drink dripped from her fingertip, the ripples spreading toward the rim in ever larger circles. Oh, Tonks knew she was spoiled, so used to the finest coffee beans, always freshly brewed and served with a subtle undertone of hazelnut and included half-and-half.

Tonks still craved for her cup to be a festive color with cardboard around it to protect her fingers from the heat. Instead, though, it was this instant muck, served warm in polystyrene, depression served without a smile. “It suits this place, though,” grumbled Tonks, tapping the rim of her coffee cup with her wand, watching as bubbles began to boil and heat her drink. The coffee matched the beige walls and the melamine reception desk of St. Mungo’s, where the blonde witch sat, utterly bored.

The place was as welcoming as the unguarded strip lights and blue carpet. The only thing alive in here was the ticking clock on the wall.

“I think the rest of us died some time ago,” she sighed, lifting the rim of her cup to her mouth and drinking, shuddering a little as the hot coffee now burned her taste buds on her tongue. Remus gave her hand a squeeze. “Thanks, love,” she murmured softly, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek, chuckling at the warm blush that speckled along his face.

The door swung open, and their midwife and Healer, Megan stepped out, brushing her hands on the sleeves of her lime green Healer’s robes. When she spotted Tonks and Remus, she smiled warmly and gestured for them to come on back. “Come on back, you lot,” she said.

Tonks heaved a little sigh, stifling her groan as Remus gingerly helped her to her feet. Her time was almost upon her, another day or two.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Lupin?” Megan asked as she waved her wand, and a sort of light blue holographic screen materialized out of thin air in front of Tonks’ swollen abdomen. “Any pains, anything unusual?”

“Yes, but…” Tonks froze, feeling a horrible constricting feeling in her gut, almost causing her to fall off the edge of the examination table, and she would have had her husband not shot out an arm to catch her. “Ow!”

“What? What’s happening?” demanded Lupin urgently, wincing only once as Tonks clutched onto his right hand in a vice grip, threatening to break his fingers. He pulled a face but made no comment. If it hurt, he ignored it. “Doctor?” he asked, the tone in his voice desperate and hurt.

But to their surprise, the midwife was smiling. “Contractions,” came her answer simply, rummaging through a cabinet and pulled out a hospital gown. “Ten centimeters. Your cervix is fully dilated, you’re about to become a mom. Here,” she answered. “Change into those. We’re admitting you to the maternity ward for labor and delivery.”

Tonks did as the midwife commanded, changing quickly and allowed herself to be led down the hall and into a private room of her own.

“Ow, when do I get this spinal tap thing, Rem?” she pleaded, pacing the room of their hospital room restlessly, not caring that she was barefoot. He sat next to her bed, wringing his hands together painfully. “Holy shit Almighty, Rem, this—this really hurts,” she cried, struggling to control her breathing. “Where’s the midwife? I—I need her. NOW!”

Almost as if on cue, their midwife re-emerged, shedding her robes, revealing the bright lime green scrubs underneath. “How are we feeling?”

Tonks bit her bottom lip hard enough to bleed, shuddering as another contraction came and went. “Doctor, I—I need medicines, something. You gotta give me _something_ , just—just light a fire up in there and smoke it out!” she begged. She threw a desperate, pleading look to Remus, whose face was white and drawn, almost even terrified.

But Megan smiled, and her smile was kind and reassuring. She had the kind of warm eyes that put the mothers-to-be at their ease, she was the voice of calmness and knowledge in the painful intensity of childbirth. She'd seen it all, the majority of births that went as nature intended and the ones where not everyone survived. She attended more christenings than the average pastor and more funerals than she ever cared to recall.

With each new life there was risk, but there was something about this young couple that told the midwife that they could handle being parents.

“You’re the past the point of a spinal tap or any medicines,” Megan calmly explained, pulling up the stool that had rested dormant in the corner with a quick flip of her wand. “You’re just going to have to get through this hard way. And no,” she added, smirking slightly. “Just like with all things, magic has its limits, pregnancies among witches included. There’s no magicking your baby out of you, Mrs. Lupin. You’re going to have to get through this hard way, I’m afraid. Yes, it’s going to hurt, but the pain you feel is completely worth it in the end when you get to hold your baby for the first time,” she explained through one of Tonks’ yells.

“Okay,” whispered Tonks, biting her lip as yet another contraction rippled through her body. Remus was whispering something into the shell of her ear, soft, encouraging words, but it made no difference at all.

They’d not thought ahead to this part. Everything had seemed to go so smoothly following when they’d first learned she was pregnant, and now this. What if their baby was born with lycanthropic features?

The minutes dragged on and turned into hours. Before Tonks knew it, eight hours had passed, and still, no baby. “God,” she cried, feeling tears well in her eyes. “Eight hours. Why doesn’t it want to come out?”

Remus rested a gentle hand on the swell of her stomach, thinking fast.

“You know what I think it is?” he murmured quietly, pressing his lips to her forehead, which was beaded in sweat. “I think you’ve made such a nice home for our baby over the last nine months that he or she just doesn’t want to leave,” he soothed, hoping his words were a comfort.

Tonks smiled through her haze of pains, reaching up a hand to caress his cheek, her fingertips grazing over his scars. “Look at you, Rem, making up crap for me,” she crooned lovingly. “Too bad it didn’t work.”

She groaned as another contraction came, scrunching her face to keep her hair from sporadically changing between pink, purple and red.

“I—I can’t push anymore,” she sobbed. “How other witches do this, I don’t know. Rem, I—I can’t do this,” she cried weakly. “Let me die.”

“Don’t talk like that!” he snapped darkly, but then his expression softened as he reached for the wet cloth he was holding to wipe the sheens of sweat off his wife’s brow. “I know it hurts, honey, but you can do this. You’ve already gone eight hours, and you’re fine. I promise.”

“No, I’m not,” she panted, biting down hard on an ice chip. “I—I don’t think I can do this anymore, Remus. You do it for me!” she cried.

“You know I would if I could,” her husband answered, looking sympathetic and holding her hand, sitting with her at the edge of the bed. “And don’t talk like that, sweetheart. You can do this. I know you can. You’re doing so great, already! I’m so proud of you, Dora. It’s almost over. Just—just a few more big pushes, and we’ll meet our baby, love.”

Tonks shot him a dark look. “How would you know I’m doing great?” she gasped, swiping her pink bangs out of her forehead. “Have you ever witnessed a woman giving birth before? How do you know?”

“No,” he responded, suddenly wishing he hadn’t said anything. “But I’m supposed to tell you everything is fine,” he soothed, gripping her hand tight and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing so great!”

“Well, think of something else because it isn’t helping!” She let out a piercing scream and blearily focused her gaze on her husband. “GOD!”

“What do you need me to do, Dora?” he pleaded. “Tell me, and I’ll do it,” he begged. Poor Remus looked so helpless and lost that Tonks would have felt pity for him if the next wave of pain hadn’t hit her at that exact moment. Lupin dropped the cold rag he’d been using on her as she squeezed his hand with even more force than before, in a tight vice grip.

“Make it stop!” she begged. Her voice was tiny and cautious.

“You know I would if I could, but sadly, I-I don’t have that power, sweetheart,” he protested. “But…well…I think you’re doing awesome.”

Tonks moaned and shot him a withering glare. “Oh, as soon as our baby is born, I’m going to kill you, Rem,” she hissed through her pains.

Remus turned even paler than before, but Tonks didn’t know whether it was because of her threat or if his hand got crushed in her embrace. She had been proven wrong when she thought the pains couldn’t get any worse. Tonks turned her attention to the midwife.

“Please, please, keep it inside,” she begged, her voice still quiet.

Megan’s voice when she spoke was calm but authoritative. Everything Tonks needed in the moment to get through this. “It doesn’t work that way, Mrs. Lupin. Your baby is coming. Don’t think about anything else.”

Soon, her screams filled the hospital room, and Megan worked quickly to put barriers around the vicinity, including the Muffliato spell to prevent passerby and other patients from hearing the young Auror’s screams, and she magically locked the door to prevent interruptions.

Tonks’ contractions started coming every two minutes and lasted up to a minute and a half, but it was just no use. She could barely breathe and with every new contraction, she thought she couldn’t possibly stand this pain any longer. Remus kept murmuring something in her ear that did not help her one bit while he cooled her face and held her hand.

But his voice was quiet and soothing to listen to, and it wouldn’t do her any good to kill him now, so Tonks stopped attacking her husband.

Of course, that could have also been because the intervals between her contractions were just too short to do more than lie still and struggle to control her own breathing, deep and slow, just like the midwife said.

“Rem, I need you to check for me,” she gasped out at last.

If she thought her husband was white before, she had been sorely mistaken. It paled in comparison (pun intended) to what he was like now. 

“What?” he’d asked his wife as though he’d misheard her. Remus glanced towards Megan for confirmation, who kept her attention focused on her work, having eyes only for Tonks, ensuring the delivery of her patient’s baby was the first priority, panicking husbands coming in second.

The Healer looked as though she was barely fighting back laughter.

Tonks blew a stray wisp of pink hair out of her eyes and struggled to control her urge to scream, clenching and unclenching her fists as though not sure what else to do with them. “I need you to check between my legs and tell me if our baby is coming, Remus. You can do this.”

Panic crossed his brown orbs as he processed his wife’s request.

“Can’t you just—hold it in until it’s ready to come out?” he pleaded. Then he pointed to Megan, and the corners of her mouth twitched as she fought back her smile. “Besides, she’s the midwife! Ask her to check!”

“Because I want you do it,” Tonks snapped, biting back the worst of her temper as it threatened to erupt. _Don’t lose your cool_ , her conscience advised her. _If you do, then your baby is born into a stressful environment, and then it’s totally wired for stress the rest of its life_.

“B—but I’m not a Healer or an Apothecary! I—I’m not a doctor, Dora. I’m not an expert!” Remus shouted, in full panic attack mode.

“REMUS!” Tonks bellowed, on her last thread of patience. “I want you to do it. Women have been having babies for thousands of years, most of them without healers or midwifes,” she explained wildly, biting her lip hard enough to cause it to split, crack and bleed. “I need you.”

“Yes, but before that, infant mortality rate was incredibly high, i—it was something like one in three babies survived, and a Healer is a very important part of this process! Dora, what am I doing, I—I don’t know what you need me to do!” he shouted, going over to the foot of the bed.

“WILL YOU PLEASE JUST LOOK, REMUS?” she yelled.

Cringing at the harsh bark in her tone that was unlike his wife, he obliged, coming over to stand behind their midwife. Panicked, he glanced down between her legs and suppressed a shudder as he looked, no clue what on earth to do with this request. “Oh, I can see its head!”

“That’s good,” Tonks gasped out weakly. “That’s a good thing, Remus,” she said warmly, smiling, hoping it was enough to calm him.

Megan couldn’t resist piping up. “That means it’s almost over, you two. You’re almost there, just another couple of good pushes.” Unable to resist teasing the poor, tormented husband just a little, she turned towards Lupin, who looked whiter than before. “Do you want to take over?”

“Oh, _God_! B—but am I supposed to touch it? Am I allowed to touch it? What if—what if it breaks or something? What do I do?” he shouted.

The poor man could not have looked more lost if he was trying.

“REMUS!” Tonks screamed. “You were the one who said you wanted to be there with me to support me, no matter what. I need you to do this for me. You said you wanted to be a part of the birthing process, so do it. Please,” she begged desperately. “I need you, Rem.”

Lupin took a deep, shuddering breath. “What do I need to do?”

“Now,” she breathed, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath that pained her lungs. “You need to catch it…. when I push it out, Remus.”

Remus stared in disbelief. “Catch it?” he asked, as if the wizard had never heard of such an idea before. “Well, just…underhand him, I don’t know! I’ve never been good at baseball. Or Quidditch, for that matter.”

“Please, Remus!” screamed Tonks, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Lupin cringed as another one of his wife’s piercing screams filled the hospital room. Her pleas seemed to reach him and something within him changed. A light ignited in his brown eyes and his panic evaporated, replaced with a fierce determination to do right by his wife and baby.

“Okay,” he murmured to himself through gritted teeth, rolling up his sleeves of his black sweater and pulling up the spare stool to sit next to the Healer, who would be supervising the new father every step of the way.

“That’s the spirit,” Megan encouraged quietly to Remus, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder, much like Molly Weasley would have done.

“I can do this!” he said softly, talking mostly to himself in order to coast some courage back into his spirt as he situated himself at the foot of Tonks’s delivery bed. “I may have panicked a little back there, Dora, but we’re going to do this. You’re doing so great, honey. I’m so proud of you, beloved. It’s almost over. We can do this. I’m your husband. I’m going to help you now, it’s my turn to do something for you. I am great with children. Especially the—the little ones that don’t talk back to me.”

“Thank you, Rem,” Tonks whispered. “Help me. Please.”

Remus nodded, his panic slowly subsiding. When he spoke again, she recognized the former teacher in his tone, quiet but commanding.

Everything she needed right now to get through this, with most of the help coming from their midwife, of course. “I need you to push, Dor. Can you do that, honey? It’s almost over, I promise,” he said quietly. “You’re doing so great, darling. I know you can do this. One more.”

There was no mistaking the note of excitement in his voice now.

Tonks nodded mutely, saving the last of her strength. With each contraction came a pain that dominated Nymphadora’s entire being.

In those moments, for those seconds that stretched into infinity, there was nothing else. Tonks could have sworn she heard screaming. Was it hers? She couldn’t tell, though she tried to make no sound at all the closer their baby was to being born, knowing if it was born into a stressful environment, the baby would be wired for stress for its entire life.

When the pain passed, it was only for a minute or so and she breathed with closed eyes, unwilling to re-engage with life outside her own body.

The room might as well have been empty for all the awareness she had, and when they did talk, touch, gain her attention she found it so hard. To reply she had to find herself from the deepest recess of her own mind and drag herself forward, to use her voice, open her eyes. The midwife was telling her that is was time, time to push. With a guttural grunt she did so and was told to stop, one was enough. She felt the baby crowning, the hot stretching of flesh and held her breath. Tonks struggled and pushed, groaning and breathing rapidly, until at least she heaved one final groan. Remus cringed at the slightest sound of release but stayed quiet. Without any further effort the baby slid into the hands of her husband. There was elation, a boy at last, and in seconds he was there, nascent eyes opening, and letting out a tiny cry, its cries suddenly filling the room. “I caught him!” Lupin beamed happily, glancing down at the newborn baby in his arms. “It’s a boy, Dora!” he exclaimed, delightedly.

“You did so great,’ she whispered, flopping back against the pillows, utterly exhausted. “Thank you, Remus,” was all she managed to say. “Watch his head,” she cautioned carefully to her husband, who had eyes only for his new son. Tonks felt more thoroughly exhausted than she ever had in her entire life, but still, she began to realize that it was over.

Their new son was here. “Whoa,” she whispered, jolting upright.

“Is that…?” Remus stared, his eyes wide and round with shock. He glanced to their midwife, who was beaming. “What’s going on? Tell us.”

Their baby’s hair had looked black when it was born, but now they watched as tiny strands on his thick tuft of hair slowly began to change colors, almost blond or a light ginger in color. “But—but _how_?”

To her credit, Megan chose to ignore the slight rude way Remus asked, knowing full well he was just concerned for the welfare of their new son. A quick wave of her wand and what she knew of the two parents confirmed to the Healer and midwife what she already knew.

“Congratulations, you two. Your baby is a Metamorphmagus, just like his mother,” she chirped happily, shooting a kind smile Tonks’ way.

“But what about his…” Lupin’s voice trailed off, not wanting to finish that thought. The Healer knew what he was asking. If he was a half-wolf.

“No,” she answered, murmuring a complicated incantation under her breath, doubling checking her answer behind her. “Not that I can see.”

The midwife watched, unable to stop her smile from spreading as she witnessed the new father breathe an audible sigh of relief and his shoulders sag, fresh tears gathering in the corners of his brown eyes.

“Thank Merlin,” he moaned, kicking over the chair to sit next to his wife, but not before leaning down and planting a gentle but passionate kiss on his wife’s lips. “I love you so much,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Tonks whispered, still keeping her eyes closed shut.

“For giving me my life back,” Remus answered, shifting the newly wrapped bundle in his arms. “What should we name him, Dora?”

Tonks fell silent, thinking. “Let’s name him after your father?”

Remus pulled a face. “Lyall?” he asked incredulously. “No, that’s the worst. Let’s—let’s call him Ted. After your father. Teddy…Teddy…”

His voice trailed off as he fell silent, thinking. It was Tonks who broke the silence as she reached for their new son, cradling him close to her chest. “Teddy Remus Lupin,” she answered softly. “That’s his name.”

The color was drained from her face, but Tonks was smiling in only a way that a new mother could. “Teddy,” Remus repeated slowly, enjoying how the sound of the name rolled off his tongue. His heart melted as the baby’s tiny fingers curled around Remus’s index finger.

“Welcome to the world, Teddy Remus Lupin,” Tonks whispered, pulling their newborn son close to her face, nuzzling his cheek with her nose. “Here,” she said, holding out her arms. “Hold your son, Remus.”

Lupin beamed as he sat up straighter on the edge of the bed, scooting closer to join his wife so they could hold him together. He caressed his son’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. “This is truly amazing, Dora. For the first time in my life, I really feel like I’ve done something important, something that made my existence on this earth worthwhile. You and I parents, love,” he said, reaching over and kissing her forehead.

Tonks managed a weak, tired smile. “I’m too exhausted right now to argue with you about this being the first time you’ve done something important, but you’re right, Rem. This is huge for the both of us. Now we have to live up to it. We cannot ever let Teddy down as his parents.”

“We won’t,” he promised solemnly. They sat in silence and absolute peace for a while, the only interlude was when Lupin sent a Patronus along to Andromeda to let her know that her grandson had arrived at last.

Remus stroked back a strand of dark hair from his new son’s face. “He has your eyes and your hair, Dora. Just look at that tuft on his head.”

Tonks admired it, collapsing back against the pillows. “He’s beautiful. We did good, I think,” she laughed. “We did it. We’re parents, Remus.”

“He has your face, love,” Remus remarked quietly. “He’s perfect, just like you, sweetheart.” He wanted nothing more than to drink in this moment with his new son in his arms. Teddy’s tiny fingers clutched his father’s fingers as dreams swirled around in his little head as he slept.

He felt his eyes mist with the beginning of content tears. Lupin didn’t try to stop them. As he looked at his wife’s now sleeping form and his newborn son cradled in his arms, his heart swelled with so much lover and a fierce protectiveness he thought that it would burst.

His wife and son were _his_. The most perfect feeling he had ever known swept through him, rocking him to his core. Remus knew he would do anything in the world to protect his daughter and his son.

Even if it cost him his own life. He would be their hero, their keeper, and the one who kept them safe. He would be his son’s father. Always.

A ginger rapping on the door interrupted his moment alone with his wife and daughter. Lifting his head, Remus beamed as Andromeda poked her head through, a delighted expression her worn but still pretty face.

“May I come in?” she asked politely. “How’s Dora? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Lupin reassured quietly. “Just tired. We should let her sleep,” he murmured, gingerly lifting his newborn son in his arms, careful to mind and support Teddy’s head. The pair fell silent for a moment, just watching Teddy sleep, snuggled and swaddled firmly in his bundle of blankets. Remus lifted his head to smile at Andromeda Tonks.

“Would you like to hold your grandson? I’d like you to meet your grandson. We—we named him Ted. After Dora’s father. I hope… that’s okay with you, Mrs. Tonks,” he asked softly. Without waiting to be asked, the new, proud father gingerly placed the squirming bundle in Andromeda’s arms. Teddy opened his eyes to stare up at her.

A slow smile crept onto Andromeda’s face as the baby’s tiny fingers curled around her pinky finger, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She tilted her head to the side, much like a dog would, and Remus could practically see the woman’s hardened heart softening as she looked into the eyes of her grandson’s eyes. She’d become hard after losing Ted.

“You two will be wonderful parents,” Andromeda said after a long silence. She handed the baby back to Remus after a while. “Somehow, ever since that first night that Ted and I met you, we knew that you would be the one our Dora would marry and share her life with.”

“I know,” he responded, unable to stop the sense of pride swelling within his chest. Andromeda had to suppress a laugh to avoid waking Tonks up. There was no mistaking that look of fatherly pride and love in the younger man’s brown eyes. He was a father and always would be.

“Do you want me to send the word out to the others?” Andromeda asked, raising her wand, prepared to send out a Patronus. “I’m sure they’d love to meet Teddy, and check on Tonks. Molly and Arthur, maybe?”

Remus nodded, not bothering to look up, having eyes only for Teddy in his arms. “If they’re up for it, tell them I’ll be coming,” he said excitedly. He gently rocked the baby against his chest, pacing the floor of the hospital room until the rustling sounds of the bed’s sheets alerted him.

“What is it, Dora?” he asked soothingly, going over to his wife’s bed. “Are you hurting? Are you in pain still? What can I do?” he asked.

Tonks smiled weakly as she held out her arms as Remus handed Teddy over so she could nurse him. “If you’re agreeable, I—I’d like for Harry to be Teddy’s godfather. If something ever happens to us, I want him to be protected and in good hands. What are your thoughts on this, Remus? Do you agree with it?” she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper and sounding slightly hoarse, exhausted from her day’s efforts.

Remus’s response was a gentle kiss on the lips. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, love. I agree with you. There’s no one better. I’d like to tell the others that our son is here, sweetheart,” he announced, getting up from her hospital bed, getting that spark of fatherly pride in his eyes again.

Tonks nodded. “That’s a good idea. Hurry back!” she teased, a light smile creeping onto her face as Teddy started making little cooing noises.

Lupin smiled. “Nothing could keep me away from you two for too long,” he responded, leaning down to kiss her again. He paused to stroke Teddy’s head gently, kissed his son’s forehead, standing up and pulled his jacket tighter around himself, before walking out of St. Mungo’s to Disapparate. First things first, he had to ask Harry to be Ted’s godfather.

He hoped he would say yes.


	24. Shell Cottage

The rain gave of herself unto the world’s ocean, each fragment becoming a part of the body of brine, of the waves and sea-lace. Lupin as he Apparated onto the beach where Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur Weasley’s new home resided.

Remus heard each watery gift, softer than the patter on a rooftop, moving in subtle waves of its own according to the wind. He briefly wondered as he paused if this was how music in the world began, how mankind and wizardkind alike had thought to conjure song and dance, by hearing the natural rhythms of nature. Upon the sand, the rain was almost silent, enriching the hue of the sand beneath his shoes. As he climbed the sand dunes towards Bill and Fleur’s cottage, something caught his gaze.

A small pile of stones rested against one of the dunes on a bed of beach grass. As he neared closer to read the inscription on one of them, his heart sank to his stomach. **_Here lies Dobby, a Free Elf._**

“Oh no, not you,” he moaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’d hoped…one day, to say thank you, Dobby,” Remus croaked hoarsely.

Another strong gust of wind blew, and with it carried the faint heady scent of a rainfall to come later. He couldn’t linger too long, he’d promised Dora he would return shortly, not wanting to stay too long away from his wife and newborn son. But first, he had to pay his respects.

As he eyed the grave, Lupin knew without so much as a second thought that whoever had dug this grave for the incredibly brave and selfless little house elf had dug it by hand, opting not to use their magic.

_Whoever did it must really have liked you, Dobby_ , he thought sadly.

Grief. It felt like an emptiness in his heart, a sheer nothingness that somehow managed to take over and threatened to kill him entirely. It gave Remus this heavy feeling, even amidst the immense happiness he felt at the birth of his son. It felt like the weight of the world, or at least his world, which consisted of his wife and family, rested squarely on his shoulders and there was nothing Lupin could do to get out from under it.

It was like this hole in his heart that was the shape of the one he’d lost and made him feel the need to wipe away the non-existent tears he wanted to form, to cry for Dobby the Free House Elf, but he couldn’t.

Lupin knelt, his wand clutched tightly in his wand hand, and silently, fighting back the lump forming in his throat that made his words catch in his throat, rendering it almost impossible for him to speak, he conjured a few simple wildflowers to place at Dobby, the free House Elf’s grave.

“Thank you, Dobby,” he whispered softly. “For saving my wife.” Not wanting to linger any longer than was necessary, he lifted his head to the sky, murmuring a silent prayer under his breath, hoping that Dobby could be free and at peace, knowing the little house elf had done so much good.

His respects paid, he chanced one final glance back at the burial site and headed up towards the cottage. The eldest Weasley son and his wife’s cottage stood solitary on a cliff overlooking the sea, the walls embedded with shells and whitewashed with the salt air of the ocean. Lupin as he strode up towards the front steps could hear the ebb and flow of the waves, which was somehow strangely soothing to Remus’s fragile spirit.

The cold, salty wind whipped about his face as he knocked, his wand clutched in his hand in the event he needed to use it to defend himself.

“Who is it?” came Bill's voice from the other side of the door.

“It is I, Remus John Lupin, member of the Order of the Phoenix, Secret Keeper of the location of this cottage, werewolf, and married to Nymphadora Tonks, Auror at the Ministry!” he bellowed over the roar of the wind, hoping his voice was audible over the gusts of strong wind. “You, Bill, gave me the location of this cottage and bade me come in an emergency.” He bit his lip and fell silent, hoping Bill would let him in.

Lupin didn’t have to wait long before the door flung open and Bill stepped back a few steps to the left to allow Remus access to enter inside.

Winded slightly from the powerful gusts of wind outside, his breath seemed to stutter in his lungs before he let it go, feeling the tension drain from his body. His breathing returned to normal as he straightened, brushing his hands on his jacket and cloak, making sure of who was there.

Remus could see Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor, and for just a moment a pang of guilt pierced his heart as he remembered their horrible argument at Grimmauld Place.

“It’s a boy!” he called out, unable to keep out the note of excitement in his voice, nor did he try. “We’ve named him Ted, after Dora’s father!”

Silence. And then squeals of congratulations from the women.

“Congratulations!” squeaked Hermione, practically barreling Ron and Harry over much to their annoyance in her haste to take the steps down, two at a time, so she could engulf Remus in a usually strong, tight hug.

“What, blimey, a—a baby!” Ron said, sounding dazed, as though he’d never heard of such a thing before. But Lupin’s gaze was fixed on Harry.

“Yes, yes, she’s had the baby!” Lupin replied excitedly, making his way through the small crowd of congratulations, hugging the women, not protesting as Bill motioned with a wave of his arm to join him and Fleur and the others in their small but cozy kitchen for a drink. “I cannot stay long, I must get back,” he grinned, feeling and he was sure he looked years younger than he felt. Remus wanted to let the happiness soak right into his bones. He wanted the feeling to stay for as long as it wanted to.

Remus closed his eyes and savored the moment. For the first time in a long time, his body and mind relaxed. In that moment, there were no expectations upon him. He had a wife who he loved and adored more than anything, and a newborn son he would do anything to protect.

“Go on, then,” he sighed, half-joking as Fleur uncorked a bottle of wine, pouring them all glasses. To his relief, he met Harry’s gaze across the table, and Lupin could detect no tone or sign of animosity there.

He smiled, and Remus felt his shoulders sag in relief. Lupin opened his mouth and had been about to speak, but Fleur quickly interjected.

“‘Oo does ‘e look like?” the young blonde Frenchwoman asked.

“I think he is like Dora, but she thinks he is like me. His hair was black when he was born, but I swear it’s turned ginger in the hour since I left. He’ll probably be blonde by the time I get back.” Remus paused, thinking of what it was exactly he wanted to say. Finally, he said the only thing he could as he raised his glass. “To Teddy Remus Lupin, a great wizard in the making!” he said excitedly, throwing back his head and draining his goblet in one go. “No, no, I can’t,” he managed, when Fleur tried yet again to push another glass of wine on him. “I cannot stay. I’ll try to bring some pictures in a few days. Tonks will be so happy to know I’ve seen you all. I’ll tell her you all send her your regards,” he said softly.

As he rose to leave, hie winced at the stiffness in his joints as Bill and Harry walked him to the front. He zipped up his coat and clutched his cloak he wore around himself tighter for warmth. Remus turned to go, but not before turning towards Harry, who was regarding him cautiously.

“You’ll be godfather?” Remus asked happily, clapping Harry on the back, chuckling a little at the young man’s expression. How like James he looked sometimes, the resemblance was almost uncanny for Lupin.

Harry was looking dazed and confused. “M—me?” he stammered.

“You, yes, of course. Dora quite agrees, there’s no one better!” he laughed. “She wouldn’t consider anyone else for this role, Harry.”

“I um…yeah, blimey, of course!” Harry managed to gasp out at last.

Remus nodded, feeling relieved and grateful they could let bygones be bygones, and hopefully entomb the memory of that fight in ice, to remember it and look back upon it, to remind himself of what an utter fool he’d been, and to learn from his past mistakes. “I need to get back.”

Bill gave a curt nod and a gentle wave as he held open the door for Lupin, who turned and vanished on his heel before Disapparating.

He didn’t even have to concentrate and think about where he wanted to go. It was time for him to go home, to his wife and son, where he belonged. True to his guess, baby Teddy’s hair was almost blonde by the time Remus returned, windswept, but the happiest he’d been in ages.

Tonks was resting in the guest bedroom of Andromeda's home, so Remus took the opportunity of the peace and quiet to be with his son, gingerly lifting her from her arms and taking the chair next to their bed. He cringed as she rustled in her sleep and blearily opened her eyes. "Hush, sweetheart," he soothed, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty. "I--I shouldn't have woken you. Go back to sleep, Dora. I"m here," he whispered, pressing his lips to hers for a gentle but quick kiss. "Thank you." 

"For what?" she murmured sleepily, scooting over to her side of the bed, patting the left side so he could sit. He hesitated, but after a moment, Teddy still clutched firmly against his chest in his arms, followed suit and lay next to his wife, his newborn son resting on his chest as he lay down, collapsing against the pillows. 

"For giving me my life back, Dora. The bond that you and I share, love, and now with our son, it's unbreakable, much like an Unbreakable Vow. Well, this is mine. Nothing could ever keep me away from you both." 

Tonks smiled, nestling her head into the crook of his arm, resting against his strong, firm chest. She let out a tiny giggle as she quoted one of her favorite Muggle movies. "A day alone, only that would be death, my love." 

Remus had to think for a moment. "I think I understand this reference, just...just give me a moment." They'd watched it at Halloween, but he couldn't place the name of the movie, though he remembered the strange husband's quote. "To live without you both, only that would be true torture, and may I never have to," he responded, a smug note of pride in his voice. 

"You won't," she promised solemnly, but then she erupted into a wide grin, eager to see if he knew the movie she had just quoted. It was a staple of the days when they'd been dating, the nights often ending at Tonks' flat on the couch for a movie, where they most of the time didn't wind up finishing them, preferring instead to do other enjoyable activities. "You know it?" Tonks asked sleepily, lifting her head just slightly to smile at him. "C'mon, I gave you an easy one!" Tonks joked.

When Remus didn't immediately respond, she stuck out her bottom lip in a slight pout. "Addams Family, Rem. The classics, especially at Halloween. You and me seriously need a movie night!" Her husband grinned.

"Might be a while for that to happen again, Dora." He wanted to drink this moment in, this time with his little boy in his hands. His eyes were more brilliant than he could have dreamed they'd be, his hands more delicate and softer. Teddy Lupin felt so light, born slightly premature at a month early, but to Remus, his son was perfect. Remus would be his son's protector for as long as he lived and his love for Teddy and Tonks would last for all time, and even until the end.

He felt ecstatic as Tonks curled up on the bed next to him, she and Teddy falling asleep in his arms, their dreams coming to them, slowly lulling the happy new family to a pleasant sleep. 


	25. The Battle of Hogwarts

The castle walls were the strongest thing for miles around, yet when Lupin looked carefully, he noticed the stones. It was built of stones of varying sizes and shapes, each one unique. From a distance, it was a uniform gray, but up close it was more a mosaic of humble rocks, each of them nobody would think anything of given a second glance. But together, they made a castle, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the crown of the landscape and protector of the students. And Hogwarts was threatened.

"Hey, Dean!" bellowed Kingsley's deep baritone voice as he and Lupin prepared to handle this side of the castle. "Tell Professor McGonagall that Remus and I will handle this side of the castle, and… damn," he swore.

His voice faltered and fell silent as he watched the horrifyingly beautiful sight of Voldemort's Death Eaters slowly destroying the protective barriers. "On second thought…tell Professor McGonagall we might need a few more wands this way," he managed, his deep voice incredibly soft.

Remus took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose, willing his nerves to calm down. "It is the quality of one's convictions that determine success, not the number of followers," he began, hoping to breathe some encouragement into both his and Kingsley's spirits. "It'll be okay…"

But even he was having trouble believing his own words. How he'd hated to leave Tonks alone with Teddy at her mother's, but this was where he needed to be. If participating in this fight would ensure his son could live a better life, then right here on the terrace was where he belonged.

Kingsley let out a haggard sigh. "Who said that?" he asked wearily.

A beat. A pause. "Me." Remus would have spoken further, but the sound of footsteps running up the stairwell took his attention elsewhere.

Thinking it was perhaps another member of Hogwarts' staff come to assist him and Kingsley, he turned to the right, and was not prepared at all.

His mind was screaming at his wife to turn right around and go back.

"You—you shouldn't have!" he shouted, but he didn't hesitate to open his arms to her as she ran, practically barreling over in a tight embrace.

"I'm needed here," Tonks whispered into the shell of his ear. "Teddy is perfectly safe. Mum's looking after him. He'll sleep till dawn and snore like his father," she joked weakly, pulling back slightly from her husband's embrace to study his face. The two stared at each in a silent way for a bit.

As if it were a silent argument. Their glances battled each other, until tears arose, and Tonks found herself silently crying. "Teddy, he's…" she choked out, angrily wiping away her tears with a flick of her finger.

Remus knew all too well what his wife was thinking. The look of heartbreak in her eyes was almost too much for him to bear, but if the two of them made it out of this alive and unscathed, he'd spend the rest of his life showing his son just how much his parents loved and adored him.

He felt an urge to do something, to comfort his wife, but also himself.

In a moment, he pressed his lips against hers, felt her body loosen and her arms touch his shoulders before one hand drifted upwards, finding purchase in the back of his hair, pressing in softly. Lupin laughed beneath the salty tears, theirs intermingling until he wasn't sure whose was whose.

"Why did you do it?" Tonks whispered, dipping into her black square canvas messenger bag to quietly pull out the letter he'd written for her to find, apologizing to her and Teddy both for leaving her those months ago.

"I…" Lupin's voice faltered and cracked as tears misted in his eyes.

"No one's ever written me a letter before, sweetheart," Tonks replied warmly, carefully tucking it back into her bag and patting it with gentle fingers. "I cried," she confessed, a light blush speckling along her cheeks.

"I'm not very good at speaking what's on my mind," Remus confessed, wringing his hands together. "I do better with the written word, so it's payback, Dora," he whispered. Then they hovered right there, quite soundless for so long, simply feeling each other's presence and love.

Tonks nodded and fell silent, brushing a lock of vibrant pink hair out of her eyes, her wand hand's fingers curling into a tight fist over her wand.

Remus eyed his wife's figure out of the corner of his eye appreciatively, and immediately cursed himself for letting his mind wander and get distracted. She'd put herself on a strict diet following the birth of their baby, exercised at home, working to get her figure back to the way it was before she'd had Teddy so she could soon be cleared to return to work.

He cringed, hating that her first assignment back was to be here. Remus turned, instinctively reaching for his wife's hand, squeezing it tight.

There was absolute stillness. No air stirred the grass or leaves. The barriers surrounding Hogwarts wouldn't last much longer by the looks of it. No clouds drifted in the sea of black above. No water dripped or flowed. Not a sound could be heard could be heard either close at hand or in the far-off distance. Even Lupin's own breath seemed to die as soon as it left his mouth. It was an eerie sort of tranquility, so instead of being soothed his senses became heightened. The two of them felt like the prey even though no predator could be detected. It was as if the world were encased in a cocoon, a bubble, and there was no way out. Tonks drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as the barrier was finally breached. "Shit," she swore, her voice barely inaudible, though her husband heard it. There was stillness on both sides. If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet. Then suddenly, movement, so much force in every jinx that was fired as Death Eaters began to swarm the castle grounds in a fury.

"Stay alert, sweetheart! We'll get out of this, I promise!" shouted Lupin over the roar of the teachers' outrage, firing a well-aimed Knockback Jinx to one of the Death Eaters, Alecto Carrow by the looks of her. He wasn't sure where her brother was, but he didn't want to know. "Look out!"

Tonks's face had drained of color until it was chalk white. Lupin thought she looked too pale, even worse than usual, and he wondered if he were to reach out to touch his wife, if he would only graze the air.

As if she were a ghost. He wondered why she was so afraid. Then—

Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of her niece, her rotten, blackened teeth bared, a wicked sneer upon her lips. Once, she might have been beautiful, but no longer. Her curly brown hair was wild and disheveled.

The look of hatred in the older woman's eyes for her niece was unmistakable. But then Remus looked to Tonks and wasn't surprised to see that same look mirrored in his wife's eyes, and for a moment, he was afraid. Bellatrix barely lifted her wand and began raining down jinxes onto Tonks as if she meant to smash her nice into the very earth, and the young Auror did the same, hollering a muffled order for Lupin to stay away.

Each didn't just want the other dead, they wanted her smashed, obliterated, nothing left to bury. Only one of them was going to walk away.

Remus, in a moment of passionate anger at his wife being threatened like this, raised his wand at the back of Bellatrix's skull, but she deflected it. The Death Eater turned towards Lupin and sneered in utter disgust.

"Your kind, _dog_ ," she spat venomously, "has tainted our family tree."

Lupin said nothing, knowing full well anything he said would just provoke her. A quick glance over to Tonks was more than enough.

This was too much for her and she should not be here. She should not have come, only three months after giving birth to their son. There was blood on her knuckles and a bruise above her left eye, yet Tonks couldn't recall the fight itself. Bellatrix Lestrange turned back and hollered something a bout there being hell to pay, but Tonks would get what she wanted. Teddy and the rest of Hogwarts would be safe. This was the end.

The victory would be hers, no matter what happened. So, if Lestrange wanted another round, Tonks would wait in the shadows, wand hand lowered but always at the ready. Tonks let out a primal scream of rage as Bellatrix raised her wand, preparing to kill her husband, and she didn't know who fired the first jinx, but suddenly she had launched herself forward, her fist slamming into her face while she sunk into her stomach.

Blood pooled into Bellatrix's mouth as she gagged. They stumbled apart for a brief second to catch their breaths before diving back at each other, eyes narrowed in determination, fully prepared to kill each other.

"If I'm going to die here, then I'm taking you with me," Tonks growled, turning her head sharply off to the side and spitting out blood.

Tonks dodged her aunt's fist and a well-aimed Cruciatus Curse, her dark eyes widening before she managed to tilt her head back and slam it into her niece's. "TONKS!" bellowed Remus, but she couldn't respond.

Stars and black spots danced in front of her vision, but she stumbled backwards and shook it off, her blood humming in her veins as determination and anger coursed through her veins, changing her spirit.

"I'm all right," she called out, barely heard over Bellatrix's laughter.

Tonks turned toward Remus to say something, but in that split moment of hesitation, Bellatrix Lestrange seized her chance and took it.

Raising her wand, she pointed it steadily, the tip digging into her niece's chest. "Avada Kedavra!" she whisper-hissed through clenched teeth.

"NO!" screamed Lupin, but it was already too late, and he knew it.

Even the passage of the dim light slowed, and the sounds became as if underwater. Aside from the beating of his own heart, no other muscle moved. That pounding inside beat a rhythm to the words of his wife's execution, the cold curse Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin's judge and jury.

Her pale face, so beautiful in life was now frozen, eyes open, mouth slack, as she was propelled backward onto the balcony's terrace. Her gray eyes held his and in those fractions of seconds his wife was there and then not, the warmth of the ages that had been her love simply had vanished.

Lupin scrambled over to his wife's body, still warm, though he knew it wouldn't be long and she would be cold, so cold. He cried as if his brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of his every pore. From his mouth came a cry so raw that even Kingsley's face nearby battling some unknown Death Eater, low in Voldemort's ranks, was wet with tears. From his eyes came a thicker flow of tears than he had cried even for his mother's death all those years ago, and then Sirius.

He had expected one day to bury his father and Dora's parents one day, but never his wife. Someone—probably Kingsley, was talking to him, for all the good that it did poor Remus. His entire world had vanished for him, now there was only enough pain to break him, pain enough to change him beyond recognition. The distraught man cried as if the ferocity of it might bring Dora back, as if by the sheer force of his grief her death would be undone. He was her wife, his one great love, and she could not be gone. Lupin gingerly knelt and pressed his lips to hers, lifting his face to the sky and let out a horrible primal scream that Kingsley heard.

"Been waiting a long time for this, boy. You tried to reject our way of life, taunted us for it. Married a _human_ ," came an all too familiar, disgusted voice that sent a tremor of fear and rage down Remus's spine. "You tried to live a normal life, and now look. Your precious mate, your soulmate," he taunted cruelly, sounding like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, "is dead, and it's all your fault, Lupin. _You_ did it. Turn around."

Lupin froze. He recognized that harsh, grating tone. "Greyback," he growled, instinctively feeling his shackles rise and the wolf taking over.

Kingsley tried to hold Remus back, to calm him, tell him the werewolf wasn't worth it, even as his own tears fell thick and fast as he looked at Tonks' lifeless corpse. "She could be sleeping, Lupin," he whispered.

In his hysteria, Lupin was too wild and strong. Kingsley could only watch as he broke from his hold and launched himself at Greyback, dissolved in the suicidal kind of despair that took hold of Lupin's mind and had now rendered him prisoner, never to give him back his sanity.

His wailing carried in the damp air on the terrace surrounding them, freezing Kingsley in place, helpless and at a loss for what to do about it.

In that frozen second between stand off and fighting, Kingsley saw Greyback's yellowed eyes flick from Remus to him. Their faces were unreadable, no fear, no invitational smirk or gesture of any kind.

Lupin was banking on Greyback making the mistake he predicted he would. In that instant as the much larger man propelled himself forward, he flew at Remus, completely ignoring Kingsley Shacklebolt behind him.

He wasn't thinking when he completely chose to ignore his wand clutched in his hand, opting instead to plunge it into the man's eyeball and twist it. Greyback's growl escaped from the back of his throat as he flung Lupin off him, violently grabbing the sleeve of his sweater and throwing him up against the wall, leaning in so his face was only inches apart from his. "This has been a long time coming, kid," Greyback growled, shoving the tip of his own wand into his chest, close to his heart. "I can see it in your eyes. All you want is to go be with your _mate_ ," here he spat the word as though it were poison in his mouth. "You're gonna get your wish, kid."

Remus closed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw tensing as he felt his shoulders relax. If he was to die here like this, at least he would get to see Dora again soon. Visions of their three-month-old son flashed through the forefront of his mind, and he hoped that someday, when Teddy was older, that he would understand why his mother and father died to save his life.

To make the world in which he could live just a little bit safer.

He was barely aware of Kingsley shouting something, and someone else had joined the fighting amid all the chaos. Whoever it was, he sounded vaguely familiar, though Lupin had no time to place it as a flash of green light filled his vision and then he knew no more, drifting to sleep.

* * *

They say a man who lives fully was not afraid of death. Remus, even know as he stood in this vast train station that was entirely white, was not afraid of death. Where would he go? Would he be a ghost, or would he be allowed to, as Dumbledore said, 'board a train and get on and just go?"

"Go where?" he asked, glancing around for his wife, not seeing her.

"On." Remus frowned at Dumbledore's purposely vague answer.

"Where's my wife, Dumbledore?" he demanded, flinching only slightly as he glanced down at himself. He hardly recognized himself. He looked years younger, at least in his late twenties now, no longer horribly scarred.

At least here in the afterlife, if such a place existed, he could be closer to his wife's age now. That was a good thing at least, he thought hopefully.

When Dumbledore yet again did not answer his question as to where his wife was, he let out a tired sigh and slumped down on a nearby bench.

He wasn't going to get on that train until he found Dora. Death was a painful truth, was what some said. Remus thought of death as a foggy road, and every wizard and witch and Muggle for that matter had to get through that fog through life to finally see the clearing. It was yet another path to walk, and who was to say that it was going to be his last? Certainly not him.

Albus Dumbledore smiled in that wistful way of his. "You both fought bravely," he commended gravely. "Life may be the beginning, but who is to say Death is our last path? What if Death is merely but the middle of the story, and you must read through that part to get to the place beyond?"

A beat. A pause. Lupin sighed. He knew full well he wasn't finished.

"But if we go onto that next path after death, will it be our last path, or are we fated to keep walking?" Dumbledore pondered out loud, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He smiled that ambivalent smile and stood up, wincing at the stiffness in his joints as he began to walk, his white robes billowing behind him. "You wished to see your wife again. She is here…"

"Where?" Lupin swallowed the lump forming in his throat and fought back the beginning of a fresh onset of tears. "Please," he begged. "I…I…"

_I need her_ , is what he wanted to say, but he couldn't seem to find the words. Dumbledore smiled and clapped the much younger man on the back, gingerly steering him towards the pristine white train that waited.

"On." Lupin bit his bottom lip, hesitant. What if she wasn't there? But one look over at Dumbledore's face was more than enough. He nodded mutely, afraid if he opened his mouth to speak, he would either burst into tears or get sick. Maybe even both. So, he didn't. He boarded the train.

Lupin drifted into consciousness the minute he sat down, and then back out. The world was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of his thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by a hurricane. A tap on his shoulder momentarily brought him back to the outside world, but after a second, he was lost.

He couldn't keep focus. The whole world around him felt like a blur. Confusion blossomed in his heart, and Remus knew that sooner or later he would need to wake up, to stare his new reality in the face. But for now, he lay down his heavy head, and retreated into the wallowing blackness…

When Remus opened his eyes, he was on a riverbank. Cool water flowed by, eddying around the twigs of a fallen tree branch. Behind him was a willow tree, exactly the same as the one he used to sit by with his father and mother as a young boy. Across the way sat a kingfisher, its blue plumage resplendent in what had to be the light of an eternal summer.

He cast his eyes upward to find the sun, but it wasn't there. Odd.

Then he recalled witnessing Bellatrix Lestrange murdering his wife, and then the werewolf Greyback had pinned him back into a corner.

But no pain when he'd died. He'd hoped it had been the same for her.

Perhaps all this is a dream, Remus thought, dipping his hand into the water and bringing it back out, watching the drips form their ever-increasing circles on impact. So vivid. He held his wetted fingers to the air, and there was a slight breeze, just softly. His eyes caught a dragonfly briefly before he heard Sirius and James' voices hollering at him from up the path. He smiled, feeling the corners of his mouth widen. "Behind you!"

"Heaven," he breathed. "This must be it, then. Dumbledore was right."

Remus turned, not expecting to come face-to-face with Dumbledore.

The old man smiled. "I watched over you every day of your life, I felt your pain, I worked through every good heart and mind around you to alleviate your suffering. I never left either of you, not ever." He paused. "You wished to see your wife. She's here, she's been waiting for you."

"Remus." Her voice came from directly behind him. He turned around. Remus did not know if it was the warmth of the spring air around them, or if she was there, but Tonks stood there. She was beautiful. Her beauty reverted to her early twenties as well, his wife shot him a beautiful white smile. Her form shimmered and waved, and as she walked slowly towards him, she walked like she was painted onto the horizon with a fine brush, the artist constantly touching up and making alterations to her figure. His wife stood in a beautiful flowing white gown that no money could buy or that a human hand could craft such a beautiful garment. Her bright pink pixie cut short and neat, as she usually liked it. Even after all this time, Lupin still admired how her beauty could take his breath away.

Her eyes met hers and she smiled, holding out her left hand for him to take. A quick glance downward showed him she proudly still wore her wedding band, never to take it off once.

Her eyes reminded Remus of the first drink they shared together as an adult, huddled near the warmth of the fire, talking about nothing and everything. They sparkled, reminiscent of the crystal shard Tonks had bought from a shopkeeper once when they went to Hogsmeade.

They reflected all her emotions of love onto Lupin. They sang, a sweet melody that wrapped around Remus and embraced him with its familiar touch and remembrance. They gazed in wonder and curiosity, fresh soil sprouting newly under spring rain. Danced under the shadows on mahogany walls, relaxed, carefree, and bewitching. Those eyes are where Lupin started and where he ended, though he knew time in Heaven was endless, so for him, this was not the end. No, it was just the beginning.

Her eyes were where he would take his last embrace and always return to. Her earthen depths he had never quite fully explored, would always remain a mystery. She smiled. There was something about the way his wife smiled; the way butterflies seemed to escape from the pits of her stomach and the way the sun had somehow toppled down from the sky and made a home right there in Tonks's heart. His wife had the kind of smile that made him happy just to be next to her, that bit more human.

Tonks said nothing as he closed the gap of space between them, reaching up a trembling hand to caress her cheek with the pads of his thumb. "Didn't I tell you? I knew you'd make it home to me, Rem."

He kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She ran her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. His lips brushed against hers. Not innocently, like a tease but hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. "Dora," he whispered slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. "I've missed you. I'm so sorry, about…about our son."

"And I you," she whispered. "I knew you wouldn't keep me waiting. I love you. Our son is going to be fine. He has Harry, my mother, he'll grow up surrounded with a loving family," Tonks responded, caressing his cheek with her thumb. She smiled again, her heart fluttering at his voice as she clasped her hands on either side of his face. Never had her name ever felt so wonderful, she thought, as she leaned in for another kiss.

When she looked at Remus, it was as if every ounce of breath was taken from his lungs, floating into the air like midnight smoke. Every time she kissed him, it felt like the world stopped, leaving just the two of them to wander the endless limits of Heaven together, as it should be. Every time she held his face between her hands, it felt like she was untying all his knots. Holding him for eternity in the arms he'd grown so accustomed to. This is what falling in love was like, a story you never wanted to end. For so long Tonks had longed for it, and now he can't bear to lose it - lose this thing that made him complete. Even now, their bodies restored to eternal youth in this place of endless happiness in Heaven, he kept falling in love with Tonks, and each time was harder than the last. Every time the feeling got deeper, more complete, more bewitching. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do to keep Tonks safe. He didn't want his wife to ever think that she had to ask for his affection, because she did not, and she never had.

The more love he gave his wife, the more he had bursting inside of him. In his wife's embrace the world stopped still on its axis.

There was no time, no wind, no rain. Tonks's mind was at peace. How could it be that he hadn't seen Tonks's love for what it was? Pure. Unselfish. Undemanding. Free. He felt his body press in, soft and warm.

This was the love he had waited for all his life, prayed for. He inwardly thanked God and hugged Tonks all the tighter. A love like this was to be cherished for life. Finally, he was home.

With Tonks, where he belonged.

* * *

Two months since the battle's end, and Wes found himself in a place where he never wanted to go again. Yet somehow, his feet knew the way.

He went inside the complex, Azkaban prison, slow and stealthily. The air inside was different, cold, and for a moment, the young werewolf was unable to put his finger on why. Then it occurred to him. The smell of sweat was gone, there was no sound of people, nothing but the eerie silence. But that wasn't the worst of it. This place was just walls, cells. Here, he could feel the icy grip of death.

"You're here," he growled, coming to a halt outside the prisoner's cell. The time in Azkaban had not been kind to Greyback. He'd lost weight since his imprisonment, and his prison robes hung off his form. "You…"

"So," drawled Greyback, sounding bored. "You came after all. To see me, the man who killed your pathetic little friends and pretty little wife."

"Yes." Wes froze, his hands curled into a tight fist in an interior pocket of his jacket, around his wand. His fingers were twitching as he fought to restrain the urge. "Tell me why," he demanded urgently. "Why you did…"

The werewolf was bound differently from the rest, for he had on his legs a chain so long that it wound all the way around his bulky form.

His wrists bound by manacles and his wand snapped in two, there was no way Greyback was going to leave Azkaban Prison alive in one piece.

Greyback chuckled lowly, crouching in the shadows of his prison cell.

"I am a person," he said, feeling his voice go dangerously quiet. "Or I was one once, a person, a being with scars and bruises all over my body, red trickly blood running down my sides. The very picture of misery the minute I was bitten," he growled, baring his canines, and revealed his yellowing, rotten gums to Wes, whose face blanched, but he did not avert his gaze. He'd come all this way now; he couldn't very well lose his nerve.

Greyback continued. "My kind said time could heal things. But I never healed, or even became better. I'm nothing more than a visionary with a dream," he growled, and he lifted his chin to meet Wes's gaze. "I don't care what you think of me as long as you obey me, boy. I know I have odd methods, but they work. I know what life should be like and I understand that many things and creatures are inferior to me. In my position it is simply mercy. I know if I don't save them with the wonders of death. they will die in the horror of life. Some people are born good and always fight off the bad. Some people are born bad and become good through great effort. Others are born in light and fall to darkness. And others are born in darkness and cannot see the light. Try as you might to believe otherwise, everyone fits into one of those categories. Which one are you? Are you good or bad? Light or dark? An angel or a demon? I know what I am. When I came of age, I realized the life ahead of me was one of anger, pain and hatred. Of darkness. Did I want that? Yeah. I did. I grew up surrounded by fire and ash and poison and death. It was the only thing I knew, so of course I wanted it. I was never taught what love was. What kindness was. In fact, in my entire childhood I think I saw just one type of smile - a smile full of malice and cruel intent, from both my parents."

Wes felt his body start to tremble uncontrollably. He had not come here to listen to Fenrir Greyback's sob story. "You killed my wife. Norah."

Greyback frowned. "Who?" he asked, feigning innocence, and that was all it took. White knuckled from clenching his fist too hard, and gritted teeth from his effort to remain silent, Wes's tense form exuded an animosity that was like acid—burning, slicing, and utterly potent.

His face was white with suppressed rage, and he mentally snapped.

Legend says that for someone who was a werewolf, like Wes was, like Remus had been, that their hearts died in their chest cavities long ago, and that was how they became killers and perhaps why. The witches of the northern isle, and those in Wales said the emptiness was their madness.

That someone like Wes took a life over and over again, as if he thought that would allow him to possess a heart and soul again following the loss of his wife, yet it was never so. To be healed, they said, someone pure had to love each of them, to reform their heart as if it was the finest of clay, then set it to beating with pure nature's essence. So, until Wes could find such a being to forgive all that he had done wrong in life, to break the universal scales and set his soul free to begin anew, he'd kill.

"But only one," he swore through gritted teeth. Wes lifted his wand, pointing it at the prison's luck, muttering the Unlocking Charm under his breath, stowing his wand back in his jacket. There would be no magic here today. He could tell just by the other wolf's scent that he was weakened.

"Good," he whisper-hissed through gritted teeth, the cold steel of his blade came swiftly out of his jeans pocket and was buried in Greyback's stomach right to the hilt. Wes look at his stupid, surprised eyes and gave it a twist for good measure. He shoved Greyback as he rolled to one side.

The older werewolf groaned and gurgled as he bled out, his skin graying as the light and life force slowly left his eyes. "Now, then," growled Wes, waving his wand and conjuring a chair, pulling it up to sit next to him. "I suppose, I could be cruel and torture you before you I kill you," Wes stated calmly, intertwining his fingers and leaning forward in his chair. "Considering what you did to my wife, to my friends, there's no question in my mind that it would be appropriate. _Master_ ," here he thought of that other wolf, Lupin, and his wife, Tonks, the two he considered friends.

They'd shown him that it was possible for him and his Norah to have a future. At least, until Greyback had so cruelly taken his wife from him.

"However," Wes sighed, almost sounding bored. "Unfortunately, I'm not as vulgar as you. So, I think I'll just sit here and watch until you've taken your last miserable breath. Judging by your wounds I'd say you have about five minutes at best. I dedicate these last few minutes of your miserable, wretched life to Norah Jameson and Remus and Nymphadora Lupins' souls. May they all rest in peace. Go to hell, you piece of shit."

Greyback struggled to say something, but the blood coating the back of his throat like a thick slime made it difficult for the werewolf to breathe.

True to his word, Wes's face was the last thing he saw before he died.

Hell was nothing like Greyback had imagined, but then he'd never felt such a pain in all his life, so, how could he? Pain had been something for his victims and how he'd loved seeing it radiated from their eyes and their stretched wide mouths screaming into the empty fields. He had never believed in God, in heaven or hell, but idly he had wondered why this omnipotent being didn't stop him. Perhaps this was a God of war, of pain and suffering, perhaps he was to be honored in the next life.

He had liked that thought. On his death he was not given a choice of punishment, instead God bestowed upon him perfect clarity- the ability to understand as a God does the suffering inflicted on his victims, the pain of their loved ones and the pain of God Himself. He understood in that brilliant flash that God can only act through the willing heart and mind. Fenrir fell, begging for ignorance, amnesia or a chance to right his wrongs but God was gone, underfoot was a grassy field, screams rent the air...

Satisfied that the man who had killed his wife was dead, Wes rose from his chair, waving his wand so that the chair disappeared. He spat at the man's feet on his way out, not looking back. His work here was finished.

Wes was a murderer now. He wanted nothing more than to rest.


	26. The Oldest Story in the World

---  
  
Moss-laden pillars stood as despairing guards on either side of the graveyard threshold. Behind the wrought-iron gates were rows upon rows of crumbling gravestones, most unmarked, the tombs bathed in light spilt from an ashen moon. Gnarled trees hunched over most of the expanse, plunging the rest into shadow. The place echoed with painful grief and the emptiness of heartfelt loss, including Teddy’s and Harry’s too.

As the bodies of the beloved return their matter to the earth, their souls, ageless since birth, returned to the Maker. Teddy let his feet tread lightly over the soils that supported new spring growth, white-bells and green wands of grass, until she was there, at their unmarked tombs, tears welling in his eyes, a fresh bouquet of lilies in his hands, and a copy of his mom’s favorite book, _Tristan and Iseult_ , to place at the grave.

Though the story was old, it was one of his mother’s favorites.

His parents had left them for a new life, for whatever followed this existence. Teddy prayed they were at peace, now they were reunited. His eyes rested on their tombstones bearing their names, his heart hearing both of their voices as if his parents were standing right there with him. Perhaps it was the memories that were the real bridge, that sense of love a key to open doors into the worlds beyond this one, yet here Teddy Lupin stood in a graveyard, these moments of reflection their everlasting bond for eternity. Stifling a choked sob, Teddy gingerly placed the leather-bound copy of the book near his mother’s tomb, and the lilies, letting the tips of his fingers wander over their gravestones. Slowly sprouting from Remus’s grave was a green leafy briar, strong in branches and carried the scent of flowers. It climbed the chantry and fell to root again by Nymphadora’s tomb. “Briar,” Teddy whispered, fingering one of the snow-white petals in his hands, Harry silent beside him. “Just like the story, Harry!” he exclaimed, his eyes misting with tears as he looked up.

His godfather was looking solemn. “Your parents’ death was not of your making. Your mother and father died so that they could help make a better world for you. They were strong in this life,” said Harry calmly, though he too, was fighting back tears. Teddy glanced at Harry; his eyes filled with salty un-cried tears. “The world should not be this way.”

It was more than crying for Teddy. It was the kind of desolate sobbing that came from a person drained of all hope. The young wizard sank to his knees at their graves, not caring for the damp mud that dirtied his jeans.

His tears mingled with the rain and his cries echoed around the gravestones. The pain the flowed from him was as palpable as the frigid fall wind and soon the only person at his side was Harry, struggling to keep his own tears silent, looking up to the watery skies and heaven beyond. They had to believe both were safe up there, comfortable, warm, with each other. To look down would be to imagine Mum and Dad in the ground, and that Teddy couldn’t do. As they left the graveyard, Teddy risked one last glance behind him, and was startled to see the pure white flowers growing from his parents’ tombstones. He was hit by the passage from the book that his mum, according to his grandmother, had loved and found himself remembering. He whispered it despite the pain he felt.

“When King Mark heard of the death of these two lovers, he crossed the sea and came into Brittany; and he had two coffins hewn, for Tristan and Iseult, one of chalcedony for Iseult, and one of beryl for Tristan. And he took their beloved bodies away with him upon his ship to Tintagel, and by a chantry to the left and right of the apse he had their tombs built round. But one night, there sprang from the tomb of Tristan a green leafy briar, strong in branches and in the scent of its flowers. It climbed the chantry and fell to root again by Iseult's tomb. Thrice did the peasants cut it down, but thrice it grew again as flowered and as strong. They told the marvel to King Mark, and he forbade them to cut the briar anymore.”

Teddy Remus Lupin allowed himself to smile at seeing briar on his parents’ tombs, just like the story. Teddy marveled at the simple beauty before him. Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin had seen all her husband’s flaws, all of them, and nothing changed her love. His father, Remus Lupin, had found a person who made him laugh, made him question everything, and changed him for the better. Their love had transcended time, distance, and even their own mortality. Teddy could see it on their graves, at the briar and pristine white flowers that engulfed both of their tombs. The flowers that grew where their graves lay, these tenacious white blossoms of the earth, born to take whatever came their way and make beauty of it. Teddy knew the flowers bound the two lovers together, even in death, and was again reminded of the passage from the book his mother had loved.

He smiled to himself as he remembered it.

“For apart, the lovers could neither live nor die, for it was life and death together.”-Tristan and Iseult.


End file.
